


The Honored

by Gabrielle Lawson (Inheildi)



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 44,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25009195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inheildi/pseuds/Gabrielle%20Lawson
Summary: The Dominion finally puts a stop to Dr. Julian Bashir.  But the Gidari have need of him.  What's death to get in their way?
Comments: 9
Kudos: 17





	1. Prologue

****

**Star Trek: Deep Space Nine  
The Honored **  
by Gabrelle Lawson  
****

**Prologue**

****  
** **

"He's not here" Sisko told the captain firmly. It was hard to judge the other captain's reaction. His hood covered any expression he might otherwise have been showing. "And if he _was_ here, I still wouldn't hand him over to you without a good reason." 

"Tell us where we can find him." 

"Tell me why you want him." Sisko was intent on standing firm. Still, he hadn't lied. Bashir wasn't on the station. He had left less than an hour before. He had been called away by a medical emergency on one of the Bajoran outposts near the Badlands. Kira and two security officers had gone with him. 

"We are Gidari," the captain stated, raising his head. "Our wants are no concern of yours." 

Sisko kept his voice calm. "They are when they include my Chief Medical Officer." 

"We are Gidari!" 

"That much is obvious." Sisko sighed. It wasn't the first time he'd had to deal with the ethnocentric species. "There is no point to this coversation. He's not aboard the station." 

"We will find him." 

Sisko thought about that. They probably would find him. They were secretive people, but they were also quite technologically advanced. They hadn't really needed to ask Sisko for the doctor. If he'd been on the station, they could have simply transported him away. The shields wouldn't have stopped them. 

"You do and I'll consider it a hostile act. Dr. Bashir is needed for a medical emergency. People will die if he is deterred from his mission. If you deter him, you will be the cause of their deaths." 

"They are of no concern to us. Gidari will die. That is our concern." 

The screen went blank and Sisko slammed his fist down on his desk. He wanted to call the _Rio Grande_ and warn the colonel that the Gidari were coming after Bashir. But the comm signal would only help the Gidari to find them. With any luck, the _Rio Grande_ would reach the Badlands before the Gidari could locate them. Sisko wasn't sure why they wanted the doctor so intently. But he had an idea or two. Bashir had seen them unhooded. No non-Gidari known had managed to do that and live to tell about it. As far as Sisko knew, the Gidari didn't know he'd seen them. But the Gidari often knew more than they were expected to know. Whatever they wanted Bashir for, it most likely wasn't any good for Bashir. Gidari only looked for the good of Gidari. 

* * *

"Tarkalian tea," Kira said, speaking to the replicator, "extra sweet." She was already holding a mug of raktajino. A second mug materialized and she walked over to where Bashir was inventorying his medical supplies—again. She held out the tea to him, but he didn't seem to notice. 

"I didn't want to come on this mission with you," she told him flatly. 

He stopped his work and looked up at her. "Thank you," he replied sardonically. "It's always a pleasure to have your bright and cheery face along." He finally saw the mug she held out. "Thank you," he repeated, sincere this time. 

Kira handed him the mug and sat down beside him. "It's just that every time you and I leave the station together bad things happen." 

Bashir looked away. "Like we need to be together for that." 

Kira knew what he was referring to. It was why she had started this conversation in the first place. Bashir was too tense. "I wasn't talking about your abduction," she said, tossing a hand as if to dismiss it. "I meant the alternate universe, Vantika. Come to think of it, Chief got into trouble when he was with you, too. The Jem'Hadar, the Kellerun, the Sirah. And Riker!" 

Bashir stared at her with an incredulous look on his face. And then he laughed. "And I suppose all that was my fault!" 

Kira nodded, forcing her face to stay stern. "Had to be. And what about Sisko? He was with you and then ended up in that Sanctuary District." 

"Sisko, O'Brien—and even you—have all managed to get into plenty of trouble when I was not around." 

"But we always get in trouble when you are." 

"Hmm," Bashir grunted, sounding an awful lot like Odo. "Well, it seems to me that I'm the one who gets into trouble." 

"Exactly!" Now she smiled, letting him know, in no uncertain terms, that she was not taking the conversation seriously. 

"Colonel, three ships coming into range." That was the helm. Ensign Payven was one of two security officers they'd brought along. "They'll intercept in ninety seconds." 

Kira was in the back with Bashir. She tapped her badge. "Who are they?" 

"Unable to identify," Ensign Savolar replied. "They're closing fast, sir." 

"Raise shields," Kira ordered. "We're on our way." Bashir was already on his feet and he helped her up. 

It took them only a few seconds to reach the cockpit. And it only took a few seconds more for Kira to ascertain that something was very wrong. Ensign Payven was collapsed over his console. Ensign Savolar didn't seem to notice. He still pored over his instruments. The shields had not been raised, and the runabout was slowing down. 

Kira reached for her phaser. But Savolar was out of his seat before she'd managed to get it out of her holster. 

"I wouldn't, Colonel," he told her. "You'd never get the shields up in time anyway." 

Bashir had stiffened beside her. Kira couldn't look at him. She had to stay focused on Savolar. Behind the security officer—though she suspected he was, of course, not a security officer—she could see two ships through the forward viewscreen. Jem'Hadar. They didn't fire. They took up position. Within seconds, half a dozen Jem'Hadar had transported aboard the little vessel. One of them took her phaser. Another took Bashir's. They both handed them to Savolar. Savolar smiled and dropped all his pretense, letting his face transform into Odo's, or one with similar features. A changeling. 

"Julian," Kira whispered. "I was only joking." 

"I know," he whispered back. 

* * *

"Oh, I think," the changeling said, "that you were right, Colonel. The Doctor has been the cause of quite a bit of trouble. And one might conclude that he is the cause of your death." 

"Never," Kira said. 

The changeling said nothing. He placed the phasers on the helm console behind him and then moved toward Kira and Bashir. He nodded to the Jem'Hadar closest to Kira. She felt a strong grip on her arm and was jerked away from Bashir. The Jem'Hadar pulled her over toward Payven. She could see now that the ensign was dead. His eyes were open; blood from his mouth spilled onto the console. She turned back to Bashir who had been left standing by the door. 

He was pale. His face had lost all color. But that was the only indication of his fear. He stood still, at attention, staring right at the changeling. He didn't shake. He didn't move. 

"You are definitely more trouble," the changeling was saying, "than we had anticipated. We will no longer permit your interference in our affairs." He held out his hand to Bashir, palm forward and stepped closer still. 

* * *

Bashir's eyes moved from the changeling's eyes to his hand. _Why me?_ he wondered. _I'm not the only one fighting you._ But he didn't ask. This changeling was not in a talking mood. The last one he'd had any significant involvement with had kept him alive, perferring to torment him. This one had no such desires. _And why like this?_

"Why not just shoot me?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper. 

"Poetic justice, as you humans would say." 

Bashir found it harder to breathe, and the changeling hadn't even touched him yet. "How did you know?" he asked. Kira would know what he was asking. He'd told her what the other changeling had done with only her hand. 

"We know you better than you know yourself," the changeling answered, using the same words the other one had used. 

The hand reached him, pressing flat against his chest. The Jem'Hadar held his arms behind his back. He couldn't brush the hand away even if he had thought it would do any good. There was no way out of this one. None that he could see. He turned his eyes to Kira, the last friendly face he would see. And then the burning began. 

* * *

Kira met his gaze and held it with her own as the changeling pressed his hand to Bashir's chest. His eyes were saying something to her. They said goodbye. Then they closed abruptly, though the rest of his face revealed no pain. Kira knew what was happening and it made her sick. The phasers lay not one meter from her left hand. She could grab one, shoot him before the pain became unbearable. The Jem'Hadar would try to stop her, but she knew she was going to die anyway. 

Bashir gave out a gasp of air, and she turned back to him. The changeling stood still, revealing no emotion. The Jem'Hadar released Bashir's arms and, instinctively, he reached for the arm that pressed the hand to his chest. It would do no good. 

* * *

As it had before, it began with nothing more than a pinprick, the width of a needle pushing through his chest. This time, the strand that followed that pinprick moved quicker, rushing its way inside him, increasing in thickness as it went. Bashir felt nauseous. He wanted to reach up and pull it out of him. But the hand that held itself against his chest wasn't real. It was as soft and fluid as the stream inside him. The pain followed quickly behind the nausea, burning past his ribs, constricting his breath so that he had to gasp for air. 

_I won't scream,_ he told himself. And then a terrible thought struck him. While he was dying here, an epidemic was raging on the outpost. They were expecting him. They needed him. 

The Jem'Hadar released his arms. He knew it was futile, but his hands came up anyway and tried to grab the changeling's hand. The changeling indulged him, left his hand solid so that he could get a good grip. But he could not move it. The hand remained, the strand remained, and the pain grew louder in his ears. His knees felt weak and began to tremble. He had to clench his teeth to keep from crying out. Each breath was a struggle. The strand reached his heart, wrapped around it, closed itself like another hand. But the changeling didn't end it. 

"You are solid," the changeling spoke. "You cannot understand the Great Link. You cannot know the loss you have caused. We know now that we underestimated you. We should never have left you alive. Your escape—three times—taught us this. You have cost us several of our own." 

* * *

Kira listened to the changeling and wanted to ask him about the loss he and his kind had caused. But that was pointless. Bashir's knees buckled but he didn't fall. The changeling's hand held him off the floor. The changeling did not appear strained. Bashir, on the other hand, was fighting just to breathe. 

She could end it. She looked again to the phasers, but they were gone. One of the Jem'Hadar saw her gaze and shook his head. She turned back to Bashir. Her throat hurt like someone had stabbed her. She felt the tears well up in her eyes. He shouldn't die like that. No one should. 

Still he hadn't made a sound. He would lose his life, but he would keep his dignity. Kira only hoped she could do as well when the changeling turned to her. Blood began to trickle past his fingers where he tried to pry the changeling away from himself. Kira knew he didn't believe in the Prophets the way that she did, but she closed her eyes and silently prayed for him anyway. 

He made one last gasp and Kira's eyes flew open just when his did. And then he screamed. It was a short, staccato sound. Just once. And then the changeling lifted him off the floor and threw him against the bulkhead. He hit hard and then fell like a ragdoll to the deck. The bulkhead was stained with blood where he had hit. 

The changeling, his hand still red with Bashir's blood, waved the Jem'Hadar forward. But it was Kira that moved. The Jem'Hadar to her right grabbed her arm and pushed her roughly past the changeling until she tripped and fell beside Bashir. She knew she was going to die, so she ignored the Jem'Hadar and even the changeling. Bashir was lying face-down. Blood was pooling beneath him. But his body rose and fell in uneven jerks as he tried to breathe. It was hopeless. He would die. Kira knew it. She touched his face. His eyes were open but they didn't see her. 

"How touching," the changeling said. "Give me her weapon." 

Kira didn't look up. She turned her back to the changeling and took Bashir's hand in hers. She folded herself across his shoulder and braced for the impact of the shot. "I'm sorry," she whispered to the doctor. He ceased his struggle and his lungs released the last of the air he had. One tear fell down her cheek before the blast hit. She was surprised by the pain, but only for a moment. Everything went black. Bashir was gone, and so was she. 


	2. Chapter One

****

**Star Trek: Deep Space Nine  
The Honored **  
by Gabrelle Lawson  
****

****

**Chapter One**

The _Defiant_ came to a stop, dwarfing the smaller _Rio Grande_. It pulled close enough to encompass the little ship in its shields. Ezri read the sensors' results. "No life signs, Benjamin." 

The outpost had called again, when the doctor had not arrived. Sisko remembered what the Gidari captain had said. The _Defiant_ left the station less than an hour after receiving the message. 

The runabout proved easy to locate. It was found adrift less than five thousand kilometers from the Badlands. There were no other ships in the vicinity. Though there were several warp signatures. 

"Is she stable?" Sisko asked. 

O'Brien, obviously trying to ignore Dax's statement, bent over his console. "Perfectly, sir. She hasn't even taken a hit." 

"Well, then, let's go see." Sisko chose Dax and Worf for the away team, but he also knew he couldn't keep O'Brien back. Bashir was his best friend. 

The four of them materialized on the _Rio Grande_ with phasers drawn but they were met with silence. One officer, Ensign Payven, Security, leaned over the helm console. Blood dripped slowly from the console to the floor beneath him. "Dax?" Sisko asked, knowing the answer already. 

Ezri drew her tricorder and scanned the ensign. "He's dead, Captain." 

"Captain?" O'Brien breathed. 

Sisko turned and saw what O'Brien had been looking at. The bulkhead at the back of the cockpit area was smeared with color. Red, dark red. The stain began five feet above the floor and trailed down to a broad pool. "Spread out," he ordered. "Find them." 

Dax was already kneeling, taking a reading with the tricorder. Worf and O'Brien headed to the back. There were three bodies left to find. Bodies, not crewmembers. 

Dax stood and closed the tricorder. She turned to look the captain in the eye. "It's human. Type B negative." She inhaled a long, shaky breath. "It's Julian." 

Sisko turned away from the sight, but that only put Payven in his view again. But then he noticed something else. Two phasers laying side by side on the floor. One was Federation, its gray surface unmarred. The other was Bajoran, and like the wall behind him, it was smeared with blood. 

"And that?" he asked Dax, pointing. 

She scanned it and then nodded. "Same. I see marks, from fingers, but no prints." 

Worf and O'Brien both appeared at the same time. "No sign of Colonel Kira, Dr. Bashir or Ensign Savolar," Worf reported. "However, there is also no cargo. The medical supplies have been taken." 

Sisko didn't say anything, but he looked around the room, checking the instruments and readouts. He needed to know what happened. "Security logs," he said finally. He stepped forward himself and found the control panel. "The internal security sensors are still running." He thought about playing it there, but he knew that Bashir was dead. It was too much blood for him to have survived. And if Kira and Savolar weren't aboard, he feared they were dead as well. He wasn't sure about Worf, but he knew he, himself, did not want to watch how they died in the same room where it happened. Sisko touched his comm badge. "Sisko to _Defiant_. Lock on a tractor beam and set course for the station. I'm uploading the security logs from the last twelve hours. Route it to my ready room. Four to beam up." 

The four of them went straight to the ready room upon their return to the _Defiant_. Sisko ordered the helmsman to return to the station and left orders to call if any other ships came into range. "Sit down," he told the other officers who were standing around the room. "This won't be easy." 

Dax clutched at Worf's hand but she sat. O'Brien looked dazed. _Denial_ , Sisko thought. Sisko waited for him to sit and then seated himself. "Computer begin playback, _Rio Grande_ Security Log." 

The log began quietly. Kira, Bashir and the two security officers filed aboard the _Rio Grande_. Kira and Bashir took the front seats at helm and ops. The others stowed the gear in the back. After a system check, Bashir lifted the runabout expertly from the pad. Kira ordered a change in speed as they cleared the station. 

"Pause," Sisko told the computer. "We know they made it to within 5,000 kilometers of the Badlands. That shouldn't have taken them more than five hours. Computer, play log from a time index four hours, forty-five minutes forward of the present index." The computer sceen went blank and then came back to life with the two security officers at the helm. Bashir and Kira were not in the picture, but Payven was very much alive. 

"Colonel, three ships coming into range," Payven reported. "They'll intercept in ninety seconds." 

Kira's voice answered over the comm system. "Who are they?" 

Savolar checked his console. "Unable to identify. They're closing fast, sir." 

"Raise shields," Kira ordered. "We're on our way." 

Payven closed the comm channel and tried to raise the shields as ordered. But Savolar stopped him. He grabbed Payven's arm, and, with one hand keeping him away from the control, he slit Payven's throat with his other hand, which had become a knife. He let Payven fall over the console and then wiped his hand on the dead man's sleeve. Then he returned to his seat at the helm. 

Kira and Bashir arrived only moments later. They stopped there at the door though, and Sisko could see that they instantly knew something was wrong. Kira had reached for her phaser. 

Savolar stood. "I wouldn't, Colonel," he said, his back to the camera. "You'd never get the shields raised in time anyway." 

Then the Jem'Hadar beamed in. "The three ships," Worf pointed out, though everyone had probably deduced that anyway. Six Jem'Hadar took positions around the cockpit. Kira and Bashir were disarmed. Their phasers were handed to Savolar, whose uniform changed into the drab outfits the changelings generally showed themselves in. Savolar had been replaced. 

Kira whispered something to Bashir without turning her head. Bashir nodded slightly, whispering back. The log could not pick up what they had said. 

But it did pick up the changeling. "Oh, I think," he said, "that you were right, Colonel. The Doctor has been the cause of quite a bit of trouble. And one might conclude that he is the cause of your death." 

"She said that to him?" O'Brien asked, allowing a hint of anger to enter his tone. 

"Shh," Sisko said. He didn't want to scold the Chief. They were about to watch their friends and crewmates die. It wasn't a time to be scolding. Besides, he might have missed what Kira said next. 

"Never." 

The changeling didn't react. He merely placed the phasers down on the helm and then walked back toward Kira and Bashir. Kira was pulled out of the way by a Jem'Hadar until she stood near Payven's body with her back to the camera. Only Bashir faced it now, besides the Jem'Hadar who held his arms behind his back. He'd gone pale, but he otherwise stood motionless. 

The changeling stepped forward with his hand out, palm toward Bashir. "Why not just shoot me?" Bashir asked. The log barely registered his voice. 

"Poetic justice, as you humans would say." Bashir spoke again but it was inaudible this time. The changeling's answer was not. "We know you better than you know yourself." He was close enough now that his hand reached Bashir and rested on his chest. He took another step forward and blocked the camera's view of all but the tall doctor's head. Bashir looked toward the camera, toward Kira, Sisko realized, with an expression that said he knew what was coming. 

After a few minutes, Bashir gasped and the Jem'Hadar released him. He appeared to be in pain, but he was too far from the camera to really tell. Sisko didn't really want to see it closer anyway. 

"You are solid," the changeling was saying. "You cannot understand the Great Link. You can't know the loss you have caused. We know now that we underestimated you. We should never have left you alive. Your escape—three times—taught us this. You have cost us several of our own." Bashir dropped, though not all they way to the floor. The changeling must have been holding him up somehow. 

In the foreground, Kira turned to look at the phasers. The Jem'Hadar nearest them shook his head to discourage her. She turned back to Bashir, who gasped again, loudly. 

There was a scream. Just one, and very short. Sisko knew it had come from Bashir, but he could no longer see him. The changeling blocked his whole view of the doctor now. But that was only for a second. The changeling lifted him up, and Sisko could see that his hand was still placed flat against Bashir's chest. He could see red. Blood. And Bashir flew back against the back wall, smearing it with his blood. 

Ezri inhaled sharply and Sisko looked away from the screen. Worf was holding her. She was crying. Her hand covered her mouth. O'Brien had dropped his head into his hands. Bashir was dead. But it wasn't over yet. Kira was still alive. He looked back to the screen. Kira was taken aft—away from the camera—and thrown down beside Bashir's body. She touched his face. 

"How touching," the changeling said. "Give me her weapon." So they would shoot her. Kira didn't turn back to them. She took Bashir's hand and leaned over him. The changeling fired the shot and she went limp. Sisko sighed. That accounted for the lack of lifesigns. The Jem'Hadar beamed off the runabout with the changeling, and the camera then recorded an unmoving scene. 

"Computer," Sisko tried to say, but his voice wouldn't work. He tried again, more forcefully. "Computer, freeze playback." 

"They did not take the bodies," Worf declared, breaking the silence in the room. "Who did?" 

Sisko nodded. "Computer, continue playback one point five speed." The computer complied, though it was unnoticeable to Sisko. The scene never wavered, but suddenly, the screen went black. "Computer, what happened?" Sisko asked. "Continue playback." 

"The log is playing as requested," the computer replied. But the screen was still blank. 

"Then stop it. Back it up, normal speed." The screen stayed black for a few seconds and then flashed a brilliant aqua-blue. The familiar scene of the runabout's dead became visible again. 

"What was that?" O'Brien asked. Sisko hadn't thought he was still watching. 

"That was the Gidari," Dax said, wiping a tear from her eye. "Their transporter." 

"Wiped out the sensors," Sisko agreed. He'd seen that before, too. "Computer, forward playback, double speed" The flash was so quick now that it hardly registered in Sisko's vision. The screen became blank. It remained that way for two minutes before another instantaneous flash brought the sensors back online. The runabout's interior returned to view, but the bodies of Kira and Bashir were gone. 

"Why would the Gidari want their bodies?" O'Brien asked. Sisko shook his head. He just didn't know. 

* * *

He awoke to darkness, so much so that he wasn't sure it was waking at all. But there was light. One single light shone above him. He stared at it for a few minutes, without blinking, without taking a breath, without even registering there was a light at all. And then he inhaled, and his mind awoke with his lungs. The scenes of his life played quickly in his memories and he remembered having died. 

"Kira!" he said, and was surprised to actually hear his own voice. He turned his head and found that he could move. He saw her then, lying motionless with her hands crossed over her chest, but palms turned up in an unnatural position. He tried to sit and realized that he was in the same position. _Is this death?_ he wondered. Was there an afterlife after all? 

He sat up. It wasn't hard, and there was no pain. Still, he was afraid to try and stand so he crawled over to her. She wasn't breathing. He touched her face. It was cold. He felt her neck for a pulse but couldn't find one. And then he thought to check his own. None there either. He looked down, expecting to see his chest ripped open. That's what it had felt like anyway. But his uniform wasn't even torn. There was a large dark patch though. Blood, he realized. He unzipped his uniform and saw another dark, jagged patch on his chest, only it was darker and more like a shadow. His hand shook when he lifted it. He had to know. He touched the center of the shadow and found that his hand went through it. It was a hole, a hole in his chest. He really was dead. But he was breathing where Kira was not. 

He thought maybe if he spoke to her, she would wake up like he had. "Kira," he whispered. "Can you hear me?" She didn't move. He tried his voice again. "Kira. Nerys, wake up?" He touched her arm, shook her lightly. She was a corpse. Nothing more. But then neither was he. So he waited. He pulled his knees up close to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. 

* * *

She opened her eyes first and saw nothing. And then the light made itself known to her. She was dissapointed. She expected more from the Prophets. 

"Kira?" she heard. It was Bashir's voice. She turned her head and saw him sitting there. He released his hold on his knees and moved closer to her. Was he one of the Prophets, she wondered, disguised as Julian? Perhaps he had come to lead her to what came after life. She tried to ask him, but she had no air with which to use her voice. She took a breath and felt the air rush into her without understanding why exactly she needed it when her body was dead. The inrush of air started her heart beating as well and she could feel it in her chest. Maybe she wasn't dead after all. 

But she knew for certain that Bashir was dead and that he shouldn't be sitting beside her trying to talk. She pushed away from him until she ran into a wall. "Who are you?" she asked. 

"It's me," he answered. "Julian." He was confused. He certainly looked sincere. But that was impossible. She saw him die, felt him die. He was gone. 

"Julian is dead," she told him. Was he a ghost? Or a changeling? Was he meant to trick her? Another Kira was probably left on the runabout. It was her turn to be replaced. 

"As near as I can figure," he told her, "we both are." 

She shook her head. "Dead people don't talk." 

He went back to holding his legs. He was as afraid as she was. "I didn't think so either, but then I've never been dead before. I could have been wrong." 

That did sound like Bashir. But it didn't make sense. Alive or dead, this wasn't right. 

The matter was dropped though when the door was opened. Bright light filled the doorway, but her eyes didn't hurt from looking at it. A figure, wearing a long robe stepped into view, silhouetting itself against the light. "Healer," it spoke, a feminine voice. "Come with me." 

Bashir, or whoever he was, looked back to her. "Gidari," he whispered in wonder. He was still confused. 

She began to worry that he really was Bashir. And the Gidari were taking him away. She stood. "Where are you taking him?" she addressed the robed figure. 

"You are Honored," the figure answered, dipping her head, "but you are not the Healer. I speak only to the Healer. I am the Protector of Life for this vessel." 

A vessel. Not the Celestial Temple, not heaven, as the humans would call it—those who believed in such a thing. A ship. 

Bashir stood. He looked back at her once more and then followed the figure out the door. And then it was her turn to wait. 

* * *

"Your Life," the priestess explained, "which the Creator gave you, was gone. I, as Keeper of Life for this vessel, found you and found your Life. I have drawn it back." 

Bashir recognized her voice. He'd met her before. This ship was the _Gindarin_ , a Gidari trading vessel that had come to DS Nine several years before. He noted that even on the ship, she did not remove her hood. But then Bashir didn't expect that she would. Gidari only showed themselves to Gidari. 

"You are not Gidari, so I must explain," she went on. "This Second Life is not like the First. Your Life wishes to go on its way, to be with the Creator. It has been detained. It can only be held for two hundred Glif. This is one week on Bajor." 

"So I'm not dead?" Bashir asked, trying to comprehend the meaning behind her mystic words. 

"You must listen!" she ordered. But then her tone softened. She bowed her head. "You are Honored. This is a serious, solemn thing, and it does not endure. You must not waste even one Glif." 

Bashir didn't want to be scolded. He wanted to understand. He was dead, but now alive. "Why only one week?" 

"All Gidari know this," she explained. "Life must go to the Creator. All Life is on this journey. It can only be stayed for a Purpose." 

"And what is the purpose for staying my life from the creator?" Bashir asked. 

"You are needed. The Leader has been exposed. Those who sent your Life away seek to send hers." 

The Dominion. "But why not just stop it, revive her like you did me?" 

"You do not listen!" The priestess was becoming frustrated. "We will reach the Homeworld soon, and you will still be asking questions, wasting our Glif." She sighed and turned away, obviously trying to get her temper under control. 

It was so different from their last meeting that it intrigued Bashir. _It must be something to do with being Honored_ , he thought. _Maybe she has to treat me with respect._

"Fah-Rhek is not to be taken easily," she told him. "And it is not for the Leader. Only those who serve the Leader and only those with Purpose. Few aliens have ever been chosen to be Honored." 

Bashir didn't know whether to be grateful or not. He didn't necessarily want to be dead, but he didn't exactly trust the Gidari either. They were notoriously ethnocentric, and they guarded their privacy with deadly devotion. Besides, one week was not much time to live. It was a reprieve from the death that had already occurred, but he would want to spend it with his family or his friends, not with the Gidari. "Why me?" he asked. 

"I told you," the priestess contended, "the Leader has been exposed." 

Bashir shook his head. "No, I mean why do you need me? Your medicine is apparently more advanced than ours." 

The priestess turned and walked a few steps away. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. She was ashamed. "Our Healers and Protectors were unable to solve the Leader's dilemma," she explained. "We remembered you. We know of your abilities, of what you have done. You are exceptional. You have faced this sickness before. You are the Leader's last hope. In three hundred Glif, she will be dead, unless you can keep her Life from the journey." 

"But I only have two hundred Glif to do it," Bashir reasoned. 

She turned back, facing him. "Less. One Glif has already passed while we waited for your Other's Life to join her Being, and it will take three Glif to reach Gidar. But in this time, you can learn our devices. We have salvaged much of yours from your vessel." 

"My devices," Bashir said, offhandedly. He remembered. "The outpost. They needed those supplies." 

"It is irrelevent," she stated. 

"No," he argued. There were over a thousand people on the outpost. "It is relevent. People are dying." 

"You cannot help them." She sounded like a school teacher drilling the answer into an impatient student. "Your Life had gone away. Your Life, your purpose, your vessel. All are not as they were. Already, your leader has learned of your death. He has taken your vessel away. Your Life is now this one; your Purpose, to heal the Leader; and your vessel, the _Gindarin_. We go to Gidar, and you must fulfill your Purpose. You will explain this to your Other. She will aid you." 

Kira was waiting for him when he returned. Two more red-robed Gidari were waiting, too. They held folded, purple robes in their hands. "You must wear these," the priestess explained, "so that all will know that you are Honored." Containers of medical supplies now filled the small room. Kira had recognized some of them as Bashir's supplies for the outpost. 

"What's going on?" she asked. She looked to Bashir, trusting now that he was her recently deceased crewmate. 

"I can explain it," he told her, but he didn't. He waited for the Gidari to leave them alone. The priestess bowed, first with her hands crossed palms-up in front and then sweeping them back behind her until her arms were parallel to the floor. She remained that way until, awkwardly, Bashir repeated the gesture. She straightened and the three Gidari left them alone in the room. "At least some of it," he finished. 

"Well?" Kira sat down on one of the crates and waited for his answer. "Where are we?" 

"On the _Gindarin_ ," Bashir answered. "We're going to Gidar, their homeworld." 

Kira remembered the ship. It had come to DS Nine before. But she was concentrating on another aspect of what he said. "We've been kidnapped," she concluded. "Why?" 

Bashir sighed. "We were dead, apparently," he began. "They revived us, apparently as part of some ritual. _Fah-Rhek_ , she called it. It would appear that they ocassionally revive dead people temporarily in order to fulfill a particular purpose." 

Kira stood. "Dead? Temporarily?" She was upset. "How temporarily?" 

"Two hundred Glif," he answered. "She said that was about one Bajoran week." 

"One week?" She couldn't help repeating everything he said. "And then what?" 

Bashir sat down himself and didn't look at her. "Apparently we go back to being dead." 

"We die—again—in a week?" Kira sat too. Alive, dead, alive. It was too much to take in. She probably would have managed being dead. She believed the Prophets would have taken her pagh. But now she wasn't dead and she didn't want to be. Not now, and not in a week. "Why can't we just stay alive?" 

Bashir turned his head to look at her. "I don't think we're really alive." 

"What do you mean, we're not alive?" she contended. "You said they revived us. I'm breathing. My heart is pounding. I can think. I can walk." She would have continued, but Bashir startled her by standing up so abruptly and reaching for her hand. 

He put two fingers to her wrist and felt her strong pulse there. His forehead was creased, his brows pulled down. He didn't expect to find her pulse, she realized. He touched his own neck. 

"What?" she demanded. 

Bashir just shook his head. "I don't," was all he said. 

_You don't what?_ she wanted to ask, but she could see that he was troubled. He took her hand and placed it to his neck. She felt nothing. She tried a different position and then used both hands. She couldn't find his pulse. "Didn't they heal us, in order to revive us?" 

Abruptly, she took his shoulders and spun him around so she could see his back. Then she pulled her hands away and covered her mouth. She felt the gorge rise up her throat, but there was nothing in her stomach to vomit. She had known what the changeling had done to him, but she hadn't seen it. His uniform was torn and his skin was broken. Some of it hung limply around a hole the size of her wrist that apparently reached into his chest. And then she noticed something else about it and dropped her hand. "You're glowing." 

Now Bashir was the one to be repetitive "Glowing?" He tried to look over his shoulder but quickly gave up and unzipped his uniform to look down at his chest. Kira realized there was a larger hole there, though oddly his uniform had not been torn. _Why had the changeling bothered?_ she wondered, though she didn't worry about it for long. A lightly incandescent blue glowed from within the jagged hole. Now he looked like he would be sick. "Tricorder," he whispered. "See if you can find a tricorder." 

They both delved into the cases, and Kira was the first to find the medical kit with his tricorder. She opened it and handed it to him. He scanned himself. When he didn't say anything for a few moments, Kira pressed him. "Well?" 

"I'm dead," he told her. "No pulse, no blood pressure." He said it so matter-of-factly that it scared her. He had a blank look on his face. "I've got brain activity though. And my cells are receiving oxygen." 

"And me?" She waited for him to scan her and then digest the readings. 

"You are alive, more or less. Pulse, brain waves. Blood pressure would be good, too, if you had any blood." 

"If?" _No blood_ , she thought, _no blood_. Her mind was racing trying to make sense of what was happening. 

Bashir rubbed his free hand through his hair. "It, um, seems they've replaced our blood with—" He seemed to struggle for the right term to use. 

"Something that glows," Kira finished for him. 

Bashir nodded. He tood a deep breath, a somewhat ragged one, and Kira could see that he wasn't taking this any better than she was. He seemed younger to her then, more like he was when she first met him. He swallowed and opened his mouth to talk. "It's feeding us oxygen and nutrients." His voice faded until he was only whispering. "I don't need my heart." 

Dead or not, the officer in Kira took over. Bashir had just gone through a traumatic death, moreso than she had, and he wasn't dealing well with what had come after. He needed to focus on something other than the negative state of his health. "What purpose?" she asked. "You said they did this for a purpose." 

He took another breath, centering himself. "They need me to heal their leader. The Dominion did something to her. Poisoned her, I suppose. She said the leader would die in 300 Glif—a week and a half—unless I could stop it." 

"And you agreed?" She wasn't sure yet if that was a good or bad thing. She was just thinking out loud. 

Apparently he felt the same. "I didn't disagree," he said. "I don't see how it could help to refuse. She said Sisko found the runabout, took it away, back to the station. They'll know we died." 

"But they won't know we've been revived." Kira nodded. "They won't come looking for us." 

"We're on our way to Gidar now," Bashir continued. "I suppose we could look at the positive side." He smiled, but it was a little unsure. 

"The positive side?" Besides being alive—and that was debatable, not to mention temporary—she couldn't see a positive side to this situation. 

"We'll get to see more of the Gidari than anyone ever has." 

Kira laughed in spite of herself. And then she felt sad. "But we won't be able to tell anyone about it. Why did they revive me? You're the healer." 

Bashir shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know. They called you my other, said you would aid me. Maybe they think you're a nurse." 

Kira thought about that, about how they must have found their bodies. Now she laughed heartily. 

"What?" 

"Not a nurse," she told him. "A wife, maybe." He gave her a questioning look, so she clarified. "I was, uh, upset when you died. I was beside you when they shot me." 

"How touching," Bashir said, finally getting it. "And this you find humorous?" 

Kira didn't see why he didn't get it. "You," she pointed at him, "and me. Five years ago I would have dropped dead at the thought." 

"Okay, I see your point," he said and finally smiled. "But I can think of worse people with whom to spend the last week of my life." He opened one of the unfamiliar cases and began to look through its contents. 

Kira didn't want the conversation to end. Not now. If it did she'd have to think about what was happening, what had happened. It was easier to go on with lighter things. "Oh, like who?" 

He was quick to answer. "Commander Worf. You?" 

She had to think a bit. He'd taken the best answer already. "Um, Quark. Your turn." 

"Morn," he said. "He'd have time to tell me his life story at least six times." 

"Gul Dukat." She couldn't think of anyone worse. 

"Damar," Bashir countered. "At least Dukat can make good conversation now and then." 

It was only two hours—3.2 Glif, by Bashir's best estimate—before the priestess had returned to inform them of their arrival at Gidar. Bashir had been so engrossed with the Gidari medical equipment that he hardly noticed her entrance. Kira did though and she tapped him on the shoulder. They both stood. 

"You are not wearing the colors." The priestess sounded impatient and yet resigned. 

"Colors?" Bashir asked. "Oh!" He remembered now the cloaks they'd been given. He picked them up off one of the boxes and handed the smaller one to Kira. "Just forgot. Sorry. How long until we arrive?" He wasn't sure though, if the cloak was meant to be worn alone or over their own clothes. 

"By your time, five minutes. You are not doing it correctly." She clapped her hands together once and two figures stepped out of the dark behind her. Bashir hadn't seen them even enter the room. 

One of them went to Kira and pulled her to one side of the room. "What are they doing?" she asked. If she was afraid, she didn't show it. 

The other figure had taken hold of Bashir and he decided to do as Kira had. No fear. Just do what they want. They were "honored," or so the priestess had said. The figures—men, Bashir decided—wouldn't hurt them. "I think they're trying to help us dress." And that did, indeed, seem the most plausible explanation. Within minutes, the Gidari had both their uniforms off and the cloaks on. 

The priestess clapped again and boots and gloves were brought to them. "Put them on," she ordered. "You must hurry. We will put down soon. Wait until you are called." She turned swiftly on her heals and left the room. The two attendants followed, leaving Kira and Bashir to put on their boots. 

"Well," Kira said after they'd gone, "that was fun." She found her uniform on the floor. "Keep your comm badge," she told him. "Just in case." 

Bashir nodded and found his own uniform a few feet away on the floor. He was starting to get anxious. Gidar. The Gidari were interesting, he'd give them that. And mysterious. But what little he'd seen of them—and that was more than most—showed them to be dangerous as well. No, not just dangerous. Scary was a better term, though it did deflate his ego a bit to admit it. That they were powerful was obvious, and they had an almost magical quality. _Forget almost_ , Bashir told himself. _I'm dead, remember?_

"Julian?" Kira had moved to his side and she was tucking her comm badge inside the cloak. She seemed distracted for a moment. "There are a lot of pockets in here." She removed her hand and then grew serious again. "I don't really want to go to Gidar." 

"I don't either," Bashir agreed. "But I don't see how we can get out of it now." 

Kira turned away and began to pace the little room. "Me, neither. But let's make a pact. No matter what the Gidari have us doing, no matter what they think our purpose is, we're going to find a way back. Okay?" 

Bashir nodded his agreement, but he felt he had to voice some dissension. "But we've only got a week and then we die." 

"We're already dead. But I'd rather take my last breath on Deep Space Nine, wouldn't you?" 

_Of course_ , he thought, and then another thought came to him. "We could say goodbye." 

Kira turned back to him. "Not everyone gets that chance." 

The door opened again without warning and a Gidari in beige stepped inside. _Crew,_ Bashir thought, _not priest._ The man—or so Bashir guessed—turned his head away. "You must cover yourselves. All must be covered in Nardinosti." 

"Nardinosti?" Kira asked. 

"The Port," the Gidari replied. "Only after we leave the city can we remove our covers. Aliens walk in Nardinosti." 

Bashir thought about that for just a second. It only took a second. He was used to Garak and his enigmatic speech. The Gidari were cryptic but if you tried to think like they did, it wasn't so hard. The Gidari do not want to be seen by other species. "We're aliens," Bashir told him, pointing out the obvious. 

"You are Honored," the Gidari countered. "When we leave the city gates, you will be uncovered as will we. You are Honored among the Gidari; you are not alien." 

"I see," Bashir replied, though he really didn't understand. 

The Gidari seemed satisfied. "Cover yourselves and follow me." He turned, as swiftly as had the priestess and stepped out the door. The door, for once, remained opened behind him. Kira and Bashir pulled their hoods over their heads and walked out together. 

* * *

Kira was surprised to find that she could see quite well through the purple material covering her face. She was hoping to see more of the Gidari ship now that she'd been led out of the room, but the corridor they entered was as plain as the room had been. There were no panels, fixtures, or features of any kind on the walls. There weren't even any doors. She turned her head to see the door she'd just left, but it had disappeared into the bland wall. 

Their guide turned and walked directly into one of the walls. The wall retained its appearance but not its solidity. The Gidari walked right through it. Bashir's head, covered like hers, turned toward her. He shrugged and followed the Gidari into the wall. Kira tested it with her hand first. It was like no hologram she'd ever seen. It never wavered with her touch. There was no ripple around her wrist. It was as if the wall were solid and she a mere mist. She stepped through and found herself in a brightly lit corridor no different from the one she'd left. But now they were not alone. The corridor was filled with beige Gidari, and the light was coming from beyond a great door. Daylight. And yet it had an artificial quality to it that she couldn't quite place. 

Kira felt alone all of a sudden but it was easy to spot Bashir among the crowd. He was slightly taller than most Gidari, and his purple cloak was like a beacon of color in the sea of beige. "Follow," their guide whispered. It struck her then just how quiet the corridor was. The many Gidari there were walking toward the open door, but their footsteps made no sound on the deck. Not one of them uttered a word. They parted before the guide though, allowing the Honored, in their purple cloaks, to move ahead. 

The door, when they reached it, towered over Kira's head. Four storeys, she estimated. The ship was huge, larger than she remembered from its time docked at the station a few years back. 

There were buildings beyond. Gray buildings without windows, as featureless as the corridors of the ship. There was a ramp and their guide stopped just before he stepped onto it. He motioned with his hand that she and Bashir were to continue on. Kira could see a clearing beyond the end of the ramp. And in the clearing were twelve figures in red. The priestess stood at the foot of the ramp. Past the circle of red, more beige Gidari stood watching, but sprinkled among them were other species. The blue face of a Bolian, two Teldarians, the white hair of an Andorian. This was a port city after all and the Gidari were traders. 

As she and Bashir reached the end of the ramp, the crowd behind the priestess parted. She turned and bowed, bringing both arms behind her back, bent up at the elbows. It almost looked painful. A figure emerged. Gidari, but dressed in black. Neither priest, nor crew. Then what? Kira wondered. It was a woman, she decided, based on her figure beneath the cloak. She returned the priestess's bow. And then turned toward the ramp. She froze there, and turned back to the priestess. 

"They are Honored!" she said, obviously surprised. 

"Our Enemy," the priestess explained as if it were explanation enough. 

The black one accepted with a nod. "Then the Healer is Honored indeed," she said. "There are two." 

"His Other. Also Honored." 

Satisfied, the black one turned again to the ramp. She moved forward and stopped just in front of Bashir. "Healer." She bowed, like the priestess had, with her arms first crossed in front of her and then spread behind her. Apparently the bows meant something, like the colors did. Bashir glanced Kira's way and then bowed, too, repeating the other's movements. "I am Tarlingen Nardek," she said. "I will be your liaison. Come with me." 

* * *

Sisko let the doors close behind him, shutting out the everyday noise of Ops. This just wasn't everyday, although it was happening more often since the war started. Today, he had calls to make. Payven's wife was due back at the station in an hour. He'd tell her in person. Kira didn't have any family, so there was no one to call but the Bajoran officials. Bashir was harder. Sisko knew that he and his parents had only recently reconciled. And he remembered another time when he had to tell them their son was dead. This time, he would not be found marooned but alive. This time, Bashir really was dead. 

Sisko sat down and turned on the comm panel. But then he turned it off. Not yet. He wanted to think about what he'd say to them. It was easier last time. There has been an accident; there had been a body. This time wasn't an accident. Julian was murdered. 

Sisko thought about the first time he'd met Bashir, how he stuttered when he was nervous, and how naive he was when Garak first contacted him. He'd changed a lot. He had grown darker. And with good reason, Sisko supposed. He'd been abducted by both the Dominion and the Federation. But even then he'd still kept—for the most part—his sense of humor and his caring demeanor. He was a doctor throughout, and he had kept his ideals. 

And Kira. While Bashir had grown darker, she had grown lighter, shedding some of her war-hardened shell. She relaxed more, smiled more, and made friends more easily. 

Bashir was a good example of that. She had barely tolerated him at first. But now they were closer in some ways than they were with anyone else. Shared experience, Sisko guessed. She as a liberator; he as a prisoner. In moments of personal crisis, they had confided in each other. No one should die alone. Bashir had told her that once. Well, at least there was that. They hadn't died alone. 

Now he'd have to make more calls. One to Bajor asking for a new liaison officer. One to Starfleet for a new doctor. It wouldn't be the same. Ops wouldn't be the same without her in it, standing by the Ops table, staring down some Cardassian gul. And the Infirmary was Julian's place. Kira had made sure it stayed that way those six months they'd thought he was dead before. It wasn't the same, though, without his comforting smile and soft voice. Sisko had met many doctors over the years, but none were as personable as Julian. He could make you feel better just knowing he was there. Anyone else was just a doctor. 

It was times like this that Sisko felt the full weight of the pips on his collar. They were his responsibility. All of them, even Savolar. They trusted him, depended on him. He was their captain. They were his crew. 

* * *

The crowd parted before them as it had for the figure in black. Tarlingen Nardek. Like the captain of the ship. Bashir remembered his name. Sanglin Nardek. Perhaps they were related. Several of the crew followed, carrying the crates of equipment. 

As strange as being dead—and still walking—was, he had to admit that his interest was piqued. Tarlingen led them through the crowds and past the monotonous, gray buildings. Past her, and past the onlookers, Bashir could see a long row of gray cloaks. And gates bathed in a reddish glow. The gray Gidari were guards, he guessed. Three to a gate and armed with rifles of some sort. As they neared, Bashir turned his head, but he couldn't see the end of the row in either direction. It was as if they surrounded the entire city. 

They reached one gate and the guard there bowed as the priestess from the _Gindarin_ had. Tarlingen returned it. Then she turned back to Bashir and Kira. "Wait here and then follow me through. I must linger. You may step through." She didn't wait for confirmation. She stepped into the glowing gateway. Energy flowed around her, lighting her silhouette beneath the cloak and hood. She stood for a few seconds in the matrix and then stepped forward. As she did, she disappeared. 

Bashir looked to Kira, uncertain about following. She seemed to know what he was thinking. "What choice do we have at this point?" she asked quietly. She took a step forward and disappeared beyond the gate as well. Bashir followed her and felt the tendrils of energy fall like rain upon his shoulders. He didn't stop as Tarlingen had, but stepped through. Beyond the gate was a whole other world. 

Kira stood motionless, entranced by it. Bashir took little notice of her and stared instead at the sky. Everything was bathed in red light, not white like the sunlight in Nardinosti. The sky rolled with fast moving clouds though he felt only a slight breeze. 

The buildings here were ornate and light danced on their window panes. An occassional tree threw its shade onto the brick-lined street. Its branches were covered with red and orange leaves which fluttered in the breeze like flames. Even the air smelled different. 

Tarlingen took a deep breath, drawing in the air for over three seconds before blowing it out again. She repeated the gesture three times and then turned to her guests. "Welcome to Gidar." And then she removed her hood. 

Kira actually gasped. Bashir could hear it. He understood. He'd felt the same way the first time he'd seen them. He still felt it. Tarlingen's blue skin glowed purple under the red sky. Her eyes, blank and white if they'd been back in Nardosti, were now filled with color, reflecting the movement of the clouds. Her hair, like a million tiny mirrors, glittered as the breeze gently blew. She was regal, like nothing he'd ever seen. 

And she wasn't alone. Bashir looked around. All the other Gidari here were unhooded. And they all looked alike. Not exactly, of course. They varied in height and build and certain facial features, but all of them—men and women—were beautiful. They literally stole his breath. 

"Come," Tarlingen said, drawing them out of their reverie. "We must go to Nodgarin. Load the equipment," she ordered the crew. 

Kira started to pull back her hood, too, but Tarlingen reacted quickly, catching her hand. "You mustn't." 

"We were told that we could," Kira stated firmly. 

"The one who told you was mistaken," Tarlingen replied. 

"Why?" Kira asked. "Because we're aliens?" 

Tarlingen smiled and it was dazzling. "Yes, actually, but not for the reasons you think." She turned to Bashir. "You have your medical device?" 

"M-medical device," Bashir stuttered. "Oh yes, the tricorder." Bashir removed it from one of the many pockets of his cloak and held it out to her. 

"What does it tell you about my world?" 

Kira was watching him, or at least he thought she was, since her head was turned his way. He opened the tricorder and it sang with blips and bleeps. The sensors on it went haywire, detecting an environment so foreign that it wasn't even classed by Starfleet. "Infrared," he reported, picking out the most obvious reason for staying hooded. "Among other things. It would damage our skin." The metallic sheen to the Gidari's complexion was apparently a natural form of protection. 

"You will be safe from it indoors," Tarlingen nodded. "You may uncover yourselves then. This way." She held out a hand, indicating a building on the right. Kira was apparently satisfied with the explanations and ascented. 

But the building was hardly more than another facade. It was no more than a long hallway, less than two meters wide. It was clear they'd be leaving it soon, so he didn't bother removing the hood just yet. Another Gidari, wearing trousers and a jacket instead of a cloak, met them there. He bowed. "You'll be going to Nodgarin, Liytner?" 

Bashir suspected he was some sort of administrator, a civilian, apparently in charge of the transportation. Perhaps "Liytner" was a form of rank, the one signified by a black cloak. Now that he thought about it, he realized that he hadn't seen any other black cloaks. And the building, a station of some sort, was crowded with travelers. 

Tarlingen nodded, but stood at attention. "Yes, straight through and we must leave immediately. Alter your schedule accordingly." 

"Of course, Liytner. Platform eylen. You have cargo, as well?" 

"Yes," Tarlingen said. "I ride with the Honored. No others. Mark the car." 

The administrator was taking notes, counting the cargo. "Certainly. For whom? Liytner or Honored?" 

Tarlingen had been looking toward the exit, toward the many platforms visible past the full length windows and open doors. Now she looked back at him, and for the merest moment, Bashir thought he saw a flash of blue in her eyes. The administrator backed away and bowed again. He'd offended her. "Liytner," Tarlingen clarified. "We go to Nodgarin." 

"Forgive, Liytner," the administrator begged, still bowing. 

Tarlingen glared at him for another moment and then returned the bow. "Forgiven. Mark the car." 

The administrator straightened and then ran out the doors toward the platforms. 

Tarlingen turned then to the crew. "Load the cargo one car back. Mark it as well." 

The crew moved to obey. Tarlingen had a great deal of authority, Bashir decided. Honored, it seemed, carried a high rank in Gidari society. Still, he wondered just what a Liytner was. 

They were outside again as soon as the crew had passed. Red grass and gray gravel marked the end of the building and the beginning of the platforms. Single tracks crossed the landscape, perhaps fifteen of them. There were signs hanging over them with markings Bashir had never seen before. Most of the tracks were empty, but three had greenish trains waiting. At least, that's what they looked like to Bashir. They were long vehicles, broken into many compartments. They hovered just above the tracks. 

The adminstrator was waiting beside one of the compartments of the nearest train. He waved a hand over a black panel. Immediately the compartment turned red, blending with the sky beyond. He waved again and the car changed to purple. For the Honored, Bashir realized. The administrator pressed his hand to the panel and the car turned black. Liytner, like Tarlingen Nardek's cloak. It was marked for rank. 

Bashir glimpsed movement from the corner of his eye as they crossed the platforms with Tarlingen in the the lead. They were quick, little creatures, and they darted down the tracks as Gidari feet approached them. They were so fast that he couldn't get a good look at them, but he thought they looked a bit like lizards. Pushing the thought of the creatures out of his mind, he concentrated on memorizing the path they'd taken so far. If he and Kira were to return to Deep Space Nine, they would have to go back through the gates and Nardinosti. In his mind he was going past the streets and buildings beyond the red energy gates. Consequently, he wasn't paying attention to the car as he stepped in. 

Tarlingen had stepped aside to let Kira and him into the car. The door was slightly shorter than he was, so he had placed his hand on the side of the door. He heard it before he felt it. A soft, short whistle. It felt like a needle stabbing him just above his right wrist. There was no pain, just the sensation of something foreign. He could still see it. Before he could even turn his head to see what had happened, Tarlingen had reached that side of the door and snatched the culprit. It was one of the lizard-like creatures, but now that he could see it, he realized it wasn't a lizard at all. It was an insect. A large one. It was at least ten centimeters long, with six long legs and constantly twitching antennae. 

There was a small circular orifice where its mouth might have been. It squirmed in Tarlingen's hand, trying to free itself. But she held it tight, and it gave up the struggle, letting its long, needle-sharp tongue hang loosely out its mouth. 

Satisfied that its strength was spent, Tarlingen tossed it away behind her. It bounced along the ground a few times then bounded away into the tall grass beyond the tracks. "Please," she said, "we must leave." 

"Is it venomous?" Bashir asked, unsure of whether or not to worry in his present state. 

"Inside," she insisted. She touched him on the shoulder and led him inside the car. There were five cushioned seats for them to sit in. Bashir took one near a window, hoping to see the landscape that they passed. "The haftha is venomous," Tarlingen now answered his question. "But you needn't worry. Even if you were Gidari, it is easily cured." 

"Are we immune?" Kira asked. Bashir thought she must be thinking the same things as he was. Were they invulnerable now that they were deceased? Why then was the sunlight a problem? 

"You are Honored," Tarlingen said, as if that were explanation enough. But she went on. "Your body can be damaged, but you will remain." She put her hand inside her cloak's sleeves and pulled out a what was unmistakably a weapon. Not a phaser or energy weapon, but deadly just the same. Bashir tensed instinctively. Kira, beside him, did the same. "As Honored," Tarlingen went on, "you do not require sustenance or sleep. Your body received all it needs from the ritual, _Fah-Rek._ If I were to shoot you, you would fall down. But you would get up again. It would only damage your body." She replaced the gun and pulled another weapon from her sleeve. "But if I were to use this, there would be no more body. Your Life—your spirit, as you say—would have no where to be. It would not matter that you were Honored. The light from our sun would likewise damage your bodies. It would not harm your spirit, but I did not think you would want to have your skin burned away, just as you would not like to be shot." She put the weapon away. "Either way, you are safe here. The windows filter the light and I would not harm you. No Gidari would. You are Honored." 

The door closed and the train began to move. It started slowly, smoothly gliding over the track and past the flame-colored trees. But it picked up speed quickly, racing past the landscape and startling a whole swarm of the haftha insects. Bashir removed his hood and ran a hand through his hair to smooth it down. Tarlingen watched him carefully and then turned her attention to Kira as she removed her hood. "You are different," she said, surprised. "Is this because you are female?" 

"No," Kira said with an angry glare. "I'm Bajoran. He's human." 

Tarlingen caught the anger. "Forgive me," she said. "You were not expected. I was told only the Healer would come. You are his Other?" 

"No," Kira answered, shaking her head. 

"She's my superior officer," Bashir said. 

"Another healer?" Tarlingen asked. 

"No." Bashir had an idea. Tarlingen had introduced herself as their liaison. Perhaps that was as much a title of respect as Honored seemed to be. "She's also a liaison. She's First Officer and Bajoran Liaison Officer to Deep Space Nine." 

Tarlingen was quiet for a moment. "Ah," she said finally. "Bajor, the planet near our Enemy's pathway. The Federation commands the station that Bajor owns. So you are liaison for your people. Yes, I understand this." 

"I was the liaison," Kira corrected. 

Tarlingen sighed and nodded. "The Enemy took your Life. For that I am sorry. But they cannot harm you now. They cannot come here." 

"Then how did they threaten your leader?" Bashir asked, catching a glimpse of something outside his window. It was a herd of animals. A large herd, since he could still see them. The train was moving at least four times faster than the animals. They were large repitilian creatures that ran on their back legs. Their front appendages were small and weak compared to their powerful hind legs. In fact, they very much resembled dinosaurs of prehistoric Earth. He looked away when Tarlingen began to explain. 

"One did come here," she admitted. "He changed himself. Became a member of the _Vesmir_ 's crew. We knew he was not human when he passed through the gates. He said he was a Founder of the Dominion and he must speak to the Leader of the Gidari. We held him prisoner until the Leader gave him audience at Nodgarin. He and the Leader could not agree." 

"So the Founder poisoned the Leader," Kira concluded. "And your healers couldn't find an antidote." 

"Many have tried," Tarlingen explained. "But time is short. She is growing weaker. We know what Bashir did for the disease on the other side of the pathway. The Blight. We hope he can help." 

Bashir shook his head. "I never found a cure for the Blight." He'd never given up trying though. He had hoped to find it someday. Now he was out of somedays. 

"But you found prevention," Tarlingen said. "We do not expect you to cure her. We only expect you to try. Our best Healers have been unsuccessful. But we also know that the poison is passing. Two Healers contracted it. They were sent to the Creator to prevent its spread. You will try to cure the Leader. But we must prevent the death of more Gidari." 

It could be the Blight, Bashir thought. This could be how it started on Teplan III. It had taken him nearly two months to find a vaccine there. Here, he had less than a week. And then he'd be dead. He looked out the window again. The herd was still there, but one of the beasts had fallen. As the train sped by, Bashir could see a hundred or more little haftha insects swarming over the beast as it struggled to regain its footing. Before it was out of his sight, the beast was dead. Without thinking, he touched his arm where he had been stung. Dead. "They were killed," he said, speaking about the healers. 

"They were going to die," Tarlingen said in the Gidari's defense. "More might have died had they lived. They knew this. They knew their duty. They are Gidari." 

It angered him. He was a doctor, a healer. It was wrong to kill sick people just because they were going to die. They'd been poisoned. If they were trying to find a cure for the leader, they should have tried to find one for the healers. The same antidote would work. The Gidari didn't value life. They killed some, revived others, as if it didn't matter either way. One was sent to the Creator with no thought to the possibilities and opportunities thrown away. The other was given a week to live with no thought to his family, his friends. He was taken away from everything he knew and given a purpose he didn't choose. Either was more than just a body, just a vessel, just a duty. 

* * *

"You're sure?" 

O'Brien knew what she was asking. Bashir had been reported dead once before—twice. And the first time, Miles had been reported dead, too. "I'm sure." It hurt just to say the words. It helped, though, saying them to her. But it hurt again when he realized he couldn't hold her. He couldn't even touch her. "Security sensors showed the whole thing." 

"Sensors have been wrong before," Keiko reminded him. 

"Not this time," O'Brien told her. "Julian's blood was all over the wall." 

She looked away, but she nodded. "And Nerys?" she asked, looking up. Her eyes glistened with tears. "What will I tell Molly? At least Yoshi's still too young." 

Now Miles looked away. "I don't know." Molly thought of Kira as Aunt Nerys. She had carried Kirayoshi. She had been his surogate mother. He tried to think of an answer, but Keiko didn't leave him time. 

"I used to think sometimes," she said, "about what I would tell her if it was you. I couldn't think of anything." 

Miles had never felt so alone. He had used Julian, he admitted now, for company when Keiko was away. Julian kept him occupied. Now he didn't have Julian, and he didn't have Keiko. He met her eyes. "I wish you were here." 

Keiko reached out and pressed her hand to the viewscreen. "Me, too." 

Miles met her hand with his own. 


	3. Chapter Two

****

**Star Trek: Deep Space Nine  
The Honored **  
by Gabrelle Lawson  
****

**Chapter Two**

****  
** **

Odo sat alone in his quarters, feeling himself dripping down his face. He needed to rest, but he felt no reason to do so. He had no will to change, to move, to live. Nerys was gone. Over and over, he played the recording, a copy he'd made from the logs Sisko had found. Bashir went down and then she was thrown over to him. The shot came from behind and she crumpled over the dead doctor. Dead. Gone. Taken by a Founder, one of his own people. What was life now without her? There was nothing left. Not among the Solids, not in the Link. Nothing. He was alone. 

"Odo?" It was a familiar voice, one which Odo didn't want to hear just now. "Odo? I know you're there, Pally," it said. "I heard what happened. Figured you could use a shoulder to cry on. Why don't you come over? I can't come there." 

"Go away, Vic," Odo finally answered, forcing himself to form the vocal cords that gave him voice. "I don't feel like talking." 

"I figured as much," the singer said, still a disembodied voice over the comm system. "I figured you're sittin' on the floor contemplating your emptiness and melting all over the carpet. You need to talk to someone, Pally. It doesn't have to be me." 

"Who is there left?" Odo asked. "Nerys is gone." 

"So is Julian," Vic said, his voice sad. "I rather liked the kid. He was having a rather tough time of things. I hope he's getting some rest now." 

"Who needs to talk?" Odo shot at him, angry now. "Me or you?" 

"Whoa there, Pal," Vic said. "No need to yell at me. Why don't you do yourself a favor and turn in for the night? I'll still be here when you need to come by." The comm channel closed with a click and Vic was gone. Silence filled the room again, and Odo wished Vic's voice would come back. A tear fell from his eye and reverted into the golden color of his natural form. He couldn't hold it anymore. Following the tear, he sunk to the floor, spreading out over the carpet. He didn't know if he'd ever get up again. 

* * *

Nodgarin was a sparkling mountain, inlaid with lights or jewels, standing tall against the red and furious sky. "We must stop here and continue on foot," Tarlingen stated, breaking the silence that had filled the car. 

Kira had to force her eyes from the mountain and back to the comparative plainness of the transport. Tarlingen stepped into the next car, presumably to give orders to the others who were carrying the supplies. 

"How can something be so beautiful and so ugly at the same time?" Bashir asked her. 

"You mean our liaison?" Kira asked. 

He shook his head. "Her, the planet, that mountain out there." He pointed out the window where a village was taking shape at the foot of the mountain. "I don't know whether to be fascinated or horrified." 

"I know what you mean," Kira said. "You think you find something understandable and then something different comes out to blow it all away." 

The transport slowed and Tarlingen returned. "You'll need to cover again. The sun still shines." She led them outside again into the village. A crowd had gathered, but their attention was not on the newcomers, but on a scaffolding not far from the transport. 

"What's going on?" Bashir asked, as Tarlingen led them in that direction. 

"I do not know." She stepped up to the crowd, but it didn't part. " _Chishot!_ " she barked. Heads turned, and taking in her black cloak, they bowed and moved away, allowing passage. 

Kira could see now the commotion and it froze her steps. The face was purplish, the eyes the same reflective white. He was Gidari, but the features of the face were very human. "Maylon," Bashir breathed beside her. 

"Julian!" the Gidari called. "So they got you, too? I don't get it. I left you for dead." 

"Silence!" another figure in black ordered, pulling back on Maylon's silver hair. "You may not speak to the Honored." Maylon, whose hands were tied behind him, snarled in pain, but the man seemed not to care. "Forgive Honored," he pleaded to Bashir. "He will trouble you no more." 

Bashir seemed at a loss. Tarlingen, impatient that they had stopped, walked back to them and whispered, "Forgive. We haven't time for this." 

"I knew him," Bashir said. "What are they doing to him?" 

"You do not know him," Tarlingen retorted. "He is not the one you remember. He is Harglin Nastrof the Younger. He has taken Life." She spat at the ground at the foot of Nastrof's platform. "His Life will be taken." 

Bashir continued to stare. "How?" he found himself asking. 

"Forgive and let us go," Tarlingen ordered quietly. "It is not your Purpose." 

Still staring at the Gidari on the platform, Bashir nodded. Kira turned back to the platform. The Gidari there—the executioner, she guessed—bowed and then raised Nastrof's hands behind him and secured them to a post there. He stepped back and off the platform, which was removed by two others on the ground. Nastrof screamed as his body weight pulled him down, but his hands, secured to the post, stopped his fall. He continued to writhe and groan after the initial fall. His shoulders snapped and he fell again, but only as far as his arms would allow. Bashir, beside her, turned away. "It is done," Tarlingen said, impatient. "Let us go." 

But it wasn't done. Kira could still hear the man as they passed the crowd and moved farther into the village. If she turned her head, she could see him wriggling there, shaking from pain, as he hung above the people who watched and shook their fists at him. He started screaming again, and it was a long time before Kira couldn't hear or imagine his suffering. Bashir didn't say another word. 

Finally, the sound was left behind and little buildings lined busy streets around her. Little Purple-faced children ran around, chasing each other and a small reptilian animal, which squawked in excitement. All parted in front of Tarlingen though, obviously aware of her station. Some of the older children bowed in respect. All the adults did. A plaza was up ahead, with an ornate fountain, depicting a battle, with an oversized Gidari woman in the center. "We enter Nodgarin," Tarlingen said. "We must drink of the water." 

She stepped up to the edge of the fountain, and Kira and Bashir followed just behind her. Tarlingen slipped off one glove, and dipped her hand into the water, which dripped like blood past her fingers. Red, like the sky. She jumped back, extending her hands out to either side of her to guard her charges. " _Farsinglot!_ " she yelled. Runners came from all around the plaza toward the fountain. They carried spears with them. Kira strained against the arm at her waist to see what had caused the alarm. 

The wall of the fountain was just below waist-high, and she could see over the edge into the dark red water. Strange fish were serenely swimming there, with heads made mostly of huge, ghostly, translucent teeth. But there was one thrashing about, forcing the surface of the water into turbulent waves. There was something covering its head, something black, but Kira could not make it out through the fish's convulsions. The runners were apparently familiar with it, however, and they jumped up onto the wall, their spears held ready. They were mostly men, but Kira noted a few women among them. Gender was not always a determiner of station or status, Kira decided. One of the men yelled something unintelligible and thrust his spear into the water. 

The water fought back. Or the fish did. Or the thing which had the fish. Kira couldn't tell, but the man struggled to keep his footing as the spear twitched and spun. Finally he fell right over into the water. There was a collective gasp of alarm among the others, who kept their spears at the ready. It was a deep pool, judging from the fact that he fell all the way in, pulled down by the constant grip he held on the spear. Finally, he faded from view altogether, and Kira was amazed that the thing—whatever it was that had a hold of that fish—had been able to kill a man. It couldn't have been more than a dozen centimeters across. 

A dark shadow moved somewhere near the bottom of the pool. It rose and formed slowly into the figure of a man, silver hair catching the light that filtered in through the water. He reached a hand up and was caught by one of the others, one of the women. She pulled, jumping down from the wall, and the man came up, dripping water from his face, but smiling. He got his footing and sat on the wall with his feet still dangling among the startled fish. He lifted his other arm. The spear came up with it. It was broken in the middle, but it held the black thing on the end of it. He held it up for the others to see. " _Farsinglot!_ " he cried in triumph. 

"It's a waterbug," Bashir said, as surprised as she was. And it was. It had six gangly, clawed legs radiating from a thick black torso. At one end was a head with no feature so promenent as its angled fangs. It was a waterbug, but apparently a vicious one. 

"One thing you learn on Gidar," Tarlingen said, with a hint of smile. She and the other Gidari around the fountain bent down to kneel on one knee, with the left leg placed on the ground perpendicular to the right foot. She stood. "Never drink with a 'waterbug.'" She waited for the man to exit the pool, before standing up to dip her hand in again. "Drink," she told them. 

Bashir shrugged. "I guess it can't hurt us," he said. But he didn't remove his glove. He dipped his hand in, lifting the edge of his hood with the other hand so that he could drink the water. 

Kira took a deep breath. There were fish in the water. She could deal with that, she told herself. She had drunk from rivers and streams during the Occupation. But a man had just been in the pool. He had just killed one of those bugs in the pool. And she hadn't had to drink from a river or stream in six years. It wasn't her idea of refreshment now. Still, she didn't think it worth a scene. She followed Bashir's example. 

The water was cool and surprisingly sweet. Tarlingen was already moving off, toward the tall mountain. Bashir followed, and Kira followed him. 

Every building they passed poured forth people who stared at the "Honored." They just stood, staring, whispering to each other, until Tarlingen and the entourage came up even with them. They bowed then, like a long, moving line, a caterpillar moving. The bows flowed up the road, past the buildings, toward the mountain. But Kira was struck more by which bow. It was not the one that beige-cloaked Gidari gave in deference to Tarlingen. It was the one that Tarlingen gave in deference to the her and Bashir: the Honored. 

The village was a small one and was behind them in minutes. Still, Gidari lined their way, though in admittedly lessening numbers. The mountain loomed ahead, growing larger at every pace. Kira scanned it, looking for a grand palace, shining spires, tall towers perhaps. But all she saw were trees and rocks and snow. At least she thought it was snow. It was red like the water in the pool. Oh, and there was the sparkle that seemed to have no source. 

At the base of the mountain, she saw a cave. Tarlingen stopped before the entrance and told the others to leave the supplies. From the inner darkness of the cave, twenty new Gidari arrived, each in the black cloak that Tarlingen wore. They picked up the supplies and carried them inside, disappearing into the darkness where the sunlight didn't reach. 

"The way is sacred," Tarlingen warned, "and there is no light." She pulled a cord from her sleeve and passed one end to Bashir. "Take hold, lest you become lost within." The cord was too short to pass on to Kira, so Bashir held out his hand to her. 

Tarlingen nodded, apparently feeling this adequate. Kira had not been inside a cave for several years, but the memories came back to her easily. A cave was safety at the same time it was risk. It offered shelter, but threatened confusion. One could easily get lost, just as Tarlingen said. There were jagged rocks hiding in the darkness. But those same risks kept the enemy or an intruder at bay. 

As the last of the daylight left her behind, Kira felt the darkness close around her. Literally. She could feel it. She remembered that, too. At times, it had been a comfort, a refuge from the ugliness of life made visible by the light. At other times, it had been a curse. Now, she wasn't sure how it felt, only that she felt it. Bashir felt it, too, it seemed. His fingers tightened around hers. 

* * *

Ezri Dax sat at the bar at Quark's and waited for Quark to settle down. He was busily bobbing from one customer to another. Leeta saw her though, from the Promenade, and entered just as Quark put his tray down and met her at the bar. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?" he asked, tactfully dropping his usual smarminess. 

"You can toast with me, Quark," she told him. "To Julian and Nerys." 

"Me, too," Leeta said, sitting down beside her. "If you don't mind." 

Ezri looked over at her and smiled. Leeta had no reason to be nervous about asking. She had been a friend of Jadzia's before Ezri knew her. And she and Julian had been involved before she'd married Rom. "Of course," Ezri told her. "They were your friends, too." 

Quark set three glasses on the bar and filled them. "I've said it before about Bashir," he said. "He was a good customer." 

Ezri raised her glass to that, knowing it was high praise from a Ferengi. "And Nerys." 

"A woman, all the way," he added. "She would stand up to anything. I admired her." 

It was rare to hear Quark speak so sincerely; one could almost forget he was a Ferengi. "I did, too," Ezri added. 

"She was strong," Leeta agreed. "But also kind and sensitive. She had a heart." 

Ezri raised her glass again. "Julian had the biggest heart of anyone I'd ever met." 

"And he didn't even know it," Leeta added. "He was special." 

Quark raised his own glass. "They both were." 

Ezri sat with them for perhaps another hour and then left Leeta to Rom and Quark to his customers. She wanted to be alone. She wandered the Promenade past the Infirmary and the temple. She paused for a moment there in the door. She remembered Julian's face looking down at her—at Jadzia. He was worried and busy, but she could see the hurt in his eyes. He knew from the moment he saw the readings on the tricorder that he would lose her. And it hurt him. She remembered. And now she felt it herself. Seeing him in her mind's eye, she was looking over him as he died, as he had looked over her. She had lost so many people, now that she was Dax and not just Ezri. But the pain was always so hard, each time. It never got easier. 

* * *

Darkness. He'd had darkness before. It both unsettled him and calmed him. He'd been in a cave before. Several, in fact. And then there was the cell—the dark cell in the bunker of Block 11. He'd called the cell his refuge. And it was. But it was also a place of pain and death. If the door hadn't opened every few hours, he would have suffocated. The air stifled him. He felt that again now. 

He couldn't see Tarlingen anymore. He couldn't see anything. 

Remembering his agreement with Kira, he forced his mind to concentrate on the path he couldn't see. It was easier than focusing on the memories. They had gone straight in from the entrance which had been wide and open. It was there that he heard a faint roaring, the echo of water falling in another area of the cave. He wished now he'd removed the hood, but he knew it would do little good. Absolute darkness was absolute. Only light could let him see, and they left the light behind at the entrance of the cave. Tarlingen, linked to him by the cord, had moved farther to the left without turning, perhaps indicating a narrowing of the path. That was about twenty meters ago, and the rushing sound diminished with every step. Now the cord pulled him to right. His head hit something. Hard. But it didn't hurt. He did, however, drop the cord. He couldn't help it. Tarlingen was shorter than he was and probably went right under whatever it was, but he had hit it. When she kept going, the cord was pulled from his hand. He didn't move. It was safer to stay put. 

"Are you alright?" Kira asked, having apparently heard the impact that Bashir had barely felt. 

"Didn't even feel it," Bashir told her. "However, we've lost our guide." 

"Forgive," Tarlingen's voice came out of the darkness. "I forgot your height." A short rod of blue light appeared, casting a soft glow on the completely flat walls of the cave. He couldn't see her, but he could see her hand. She held the cord again. "Please, we must hurry." 

The light winked out as he took hold of the cord. The cord immediately became taught. Bashir ducked, hoping to clear the low ceiling, and was pulled along. In turn, he pulled Kira along with him. They turned left after another ten meters. The floor began to slope upward in a steady fifteen-degree angle. Sixty-five meters and then left again. Then right, almost immediately. They continued on like that for perhaps an hour—or a Glif—turning this way and that and this way again. Every once in awhile, he'd feel a breeze from a connecting pathway, but no light ever permeated the darkness allowing him to see it. It must be a maze, he thought. But Tarlingen's pace never wavered. She knew the way by heart. He would, too, by the time they arrived at their destination. There were times that being genetically enhanced became a distinct advantage. 

When the light finally opened up on them, it was the white artificial light that he was used to back home on the station. It strained his eyes, making him glad for the hood. Tarlingen stopped, perhaps to allow their eyes time to adjust. They were in a hallway. But it was more than that. The ceiling was four storeys above his head, and ornate railings at every level looked down on the new arrivals. The hallway was perhaps a hundred meters long, with no visible connecting corridors to break it up. He could see doors at the end of the hall. Two doors, as tall as the ceiling and carved with gold inlays, though he couldn't make out any images or symbols from that distance. 

Tarlingen had taken the cord already, as it was no longer needed. But Bashir didn't feel like letting go of Kira's hand just yet. Still, it might be taken for weakness, and this did not look like a place for weakness. He dropped the colonel's hand. 

"May we," Kira asked, and she paused for just a second, "'uncover' now?" 

"No," Tarlingen answered, replacing her own hood. "We go before the Leader. All must remain covered." She took a breath, and Bashir thought perhaps she was nervous. "When we are in the Chamber, you must remain silent. Answer if you are spoken to, but be brief and respectful. Follow me and repeat my movements. This is very important. Life and Death reside together in the Chamber." 

She dropped her head and dusted off her cloak. Then she looked from her own feet to those of her guests. Bashir looked down, too. Dust—strangely, not mud—covered his boots. "From here," Tarlingen indicated, slipping her right hand beneath the left lapel of her cloak. Bashir reached inside his own cloak and found several pockets there. Tarlingen drew out a silvery cloth, so he felt in each pocket for something similar. 

Kira found the cloth as well, and so they all three knelt down to dust off their boots. 

"Your head," Tarlingen reminded, and Bashir remembered that he'd run into the ceiling earlier. But, of course, he couldn't see if there was dust there or not. 

"I'll get it," Kira offered. With one hand she held the front edge of his hood down as she dusted with the other. 

Tarlingen stood and replaced the cloth with ease. It took Bashir slightly longer to find the correct pocket again. The Gidari looked over her charges carefully, and Bashir began to believe her about Life and Death—though the threat was weak as he was already dead. Finally satisfied, Tarlingen gestured that they should follow her down the long hallway. He glanced upward as they walked and noted that now the railings weren't the only things looking down on them. Blue faces and white eyes peered at them from above. Most were Liytners, he surmised, as they wore the black as Tarlingen. Some wore a combination of red and black. All looked on with interest, but did not appear very surprised. 

The doors were huge, and the engravings were of the mountain and the world beyond it. The gold accented the sparkle of the mountain, the rays of sunlight, the streams of water. It was beautiful. But there were also figures in black etched into the doors that Bashir hadn't seen from farther back. These were predators and dangers: storm clouds and shadows hiding among the trees. Life and Death together. Two black and red cloaked Gidari stood at the door handles, with long, bladed staffs held at the ready. 

Tarlingen stopped about twenty feet back and turned around to face her guests. "When we march," she said, sounding like a teacher, "we either make sound," she demonstrated by stamping a foot, "or we do not." She picked up one foot and took one step forward, her toe touching down before the heel. It looked very much like a horse prancing, but it made no sound-at all. "In the Chamber," she continued, "we want silence. 

"Our hands," she held up her hands allowing her sleeves to fall down around her elbows, "must also be placed with care." She turned her palms inward and crossed her hands until the thumbs caught on each other. Then she lowered her hands, so that they lined up evenly with her forearms, which remained straight across her torso. Bashir looked to Kira and then repeated the movements. Tarlingen nodded her approval. "Now, beneath the cloak." She dropped her hands, and her sleeves fell down again. She raised them quickly, following the same movements to cross her hands beneath the sleeves. She waited for Bashir and Kira to get it right and then nodded again. "We do this only as the door is fully open. Once in the Chamber, we will stand. You will see from me how to stand." 

She turned sharply, a correct about face. _More teaching_ , Bashir thought, but he already knew that one from the Academy. He hoped Kira had been paying attention. Tarlingen stepped forward, now stopping only five feet before the doors. She stood at attention, arms to her sides, as the two attendants turned to open the massive doors. Bashir watched her arms. They didn't move until the doors were directly perpendicular to the walls that held them. He snapped his hands up just when she did, folding them perfectly beneath the sleeves of his cloak. 

She pranced, he pranced. Kira kept in step just to his left, and the three of them entered the room. It was more impressive even than the hallway or the four storey doors. The room gleamed with gold and silver. Weapons hung from the walls, alternating with religious or cultural symbols. A long carpet lay across the floor connecting the doors to the throne at the far end. There was no other furniture on the main floor. The throne itself was oversized and raised on another level, perhaps a full meter above the floor. There was no sound, and no one sat upon the throne, as Bashir had expected. In fact, it appeared that the three of them were alone in the great chamber. 

Tarlingen stopped five meters in front of the throne. Bashir stopped behind her, and waited. Tarlingen didn't move, so neither did he. 

And then she came. The Leader stepped through the back wall, though Bashir didn't see it happen. "Lower your head," Tarlingen whispered urgently. Bashir did as he was told. He could just see the Leader's booted feet from under his eyelids. They came to the front of the throne and then stood still. There was still no sound. 

Tarlingen bowed, slowly so that Bashir and Kira could see her movements. Her arms crossed so that the backs of her fingertips touched each other, then her arms swept backward as with all the other bows. This time, she put her right leg back, taking her bow lower as she dipped her head. She waited for Kira and Bashir to execute the bow and then stood again. This time she widened her stance and placed her hands behind her back, though she held them a little ways out from her body. The tips of her thumbs and pinkies met each other. 

"What is this?!" a voice thundered. But it wasn't one voice. It was three, in harmony, though somewhat discordant with anger. "Where is the Healer?" 

Tarlingen moved one of her hands in an unmistakable signal for he and Kira to remain standing. But she bowed again, this time sitting back on her back leg and folding herself even closer to the floor. "Forgive," she begged, and her voice shook. "He is here, Leader. He has been Honored." 

The Leader didn't tell Tarlingen to rise, so she stayed put. But the Leader moved. She stepped down from her platform, and Bashir could still only see her waist without looking up. She stood in front of him. "Why?" 

"Our enemy took his Life, Leader," Tarlingen explained, "as he has tried to take yours." 

The Leader's three voices were quiet, the anger forgotten, when she spoke again. "And the female?" 

"She was with the Healer," Tarlingen replied, a little more confident. "She was mistaken for his Other." 

The Leader turned sharply, and Bashir felt the brush of wind from her robes as they whipped around with her. "Why?" 

"Leader?" Tarlingen's voice shook. So did her hands. Her arms were tiring. 

"We ask the Healer," the Leader said. "Rise. Answer, Healer. Why was your Life taken from you?" 

Tarlingen sighed and rose. Bashir wasn't quite sure how to respond. He preferred not concentrating too hard on the fact that he was dead. But Tarlingen had said to answer if he was spoken to. "The Dom—the Enemy is angry with me." Bashir offered, preferring not to risk elaborating unless it was necessary. 

She came back around to face him, though that still did not put them eye to eye. "Why you? The Enemy is at war with all your people and more. Why you?" 

"I was their prisoner," Bashir answered, trying to see the Dominion's side, and not enjoying it, "but I escaped. Twice. They tried to kill me before, but I survived. They tried to take my mind, but I kept it. I tried their patience." 

"And you?" the Leader asked with a swish of her robes as she turned to Kira. "Was the Enemy angry with you?" 

"It is possible," Kira replied. "I have killed a Founder and fought against them. But my life was taken only because I was there when they took his." 

"Are you angry with him? His death caused yours." 

"No." Kira's voice was soft, but sure. "I am not angry with him." 

The Leader was silent and she walked away. She stepped back up on the platform and stopped just in front of her throne. "Look at us," she commanded. 

Bashir lifted his head, expecting to see her face, but he only saw her torso. He raised his head more and was shocked at her height. She was perhaps twice as tall as the other Gidari he'd seen. She was unhooded and uncloaked. She wore instead gold and jewels and shining robes of red and purple silk. But her face drew his attention. Lesions. Ugly, black, starfish-shaped lesions marred the natural beauty of her Gidari face. It was the Blight. And he'd been unable to save Ekoria from it. How was he to save this woman? 

"Take them to their chambers," the Leader sang. "Bring the Healer to me in half a Glif. There is much to be done." She turned and her robes flipped around her long legs. Tarlingen bowed again, and Bashir repeated her movements. They waited until the Leader was gone, fading back through the wall behind her throne. Then they turned and marched silently out again. Only when the massive doors closed again did Tarlingen relax her shoulders. "You did well," she breathed, obviously relieved. She pulled something from inside her cloak and handed it to him. "I will show you to your chambers. You can work there." 

* * *

"I'm sorry for your loss, Benjamin," Admiral Nechayev stated. "I know you counted Bashir a friend. He was a damn fine doctor. And Kira. She meant a lot to you, too. Started out rocky, but you two made a good team." 

Captain Sisko nodded. "Thank you. I've notified Julian's family and the Bajoran government. They're sending a new liaison officer. We'll need a new doctor." 

"Of course," the Admiral replied. "I'm also sorry they didn't reach that Outpost. Bashir was needed there." 

"The Dominion apparently didn't care," Sisko said, a little angry. 

"I wasn't blaming Bashir. Without that aid, however, dozens of the colonists were lost. Still, the war doesn't stop for them or for your people. Keep up the good fight, Captain. We need you there." 

"Of course, Admiral," Sisko replied, letting the anger go. It was a tragedy all the way around. But the war wouldn't stop and he was damn sure he'd make the Dominion pay the next time they met. 

* * *

Once the door to their chambers closed, Bashir started to relax, but only a little. He and Kira were alone, but they were alone on an alien world in an alien palace. And the aliens expected so much of him. He stopped just inside the door and watched Kira as she moved about the room. She moved like a cat, exploring every wall and space. She pulled off the hood as she checked one of the cargo containers. 

"It's definitely the Blight," he told her, removing his own hood and examining the device Tarlingen had given him. "It took me months to find a vaccine on Teplan III. This is a completely different species and a completely different environment. It's impossible." The device was similar to a tricorder except bigger. There were two display screens. One contained symbols that he could only assume were Gidari writing. The other carried words in Standard. It was a translation device. 

Kira stopped exploring and turned to face him. "That's not our main task." 

Julian knew what she was getting at. "That looks impossible, too. We're in the middle of a mountain." He chose one of the crates and sat down on it. There was no furniture in the room beyond counter tops and computers. 

Kira sat beside him. "I think you give up too easily. We still have a week. You'll be treating the Leader, maybe you can influence her." 

"She's going to die," he reminded her. 

"Not for awhile," Kira argued. "Besides, you just may find a cure. Don't sell yourself short. If we can help these people, we should try. They call the Dominion their enemy. Being their friend can't be a bad thing. So do your best while you're here. The question is what will I do while you're working with her. Maybe if I can get back out of the palace, I can find a way back to the port." 

"Reconnaissance." 

She looked over at him, a question in her eyes. "Of a sort," she said. 

Bashir shook his head. "No, medically. If I'm going to have any chance at all, I'll need samples from outside. Plants, herbs, whatever might help." It was a long shot, but it could also be a jackpot. A completely different environment, just like he'd said. On Earth, countless medicines had been discovered in the rain forests. Things could be the same here. "It will get you out, let you spend time with our liaison. Maybe you can influence her. She's a Liytner. Apparently that means something." 

Kira nodded and they sat quietly for a few minutes. Finally, Kira stood up. "We're wasting our glif or our half-glif or whatever. Where do you want to start?" 

Bashir stood, too, and patted the crate he'd been sitting on. "Unpacking, I suppose. If you'll do that, I'll see what I can find in the Gidari medical database." He walked over to the largest of the computers and found that his translation device fit nicely into the console. Behind him, Kira set to work unloading things onto the counter. 

When Tarlingen Nardek came for him, Bashir had barely had time to compare Gidari medications with familiar ones. A few were similar, and thanks to the translating device, he was beginning to get an idea of how they affected Gidari physiology. It was a start. 

This time he was not taken to the throne room. It didn't seem appropriate for a medical examination anyway, so he wasn't surprised. The room he was led to turned out to be even more ornate, draped in silks and trimmed in gold. A guard had opened the door for him, and Tarlingen had remained in the hall. He went in alone. 

The door closed behind him, and he couldn't see anyone else in the room. There were weapons here, too: swords and daggers and axes. But there were also symbols. Religious, Bashir supposed. There was a bed in the far corner and chairs nearer to him. They were oversized, like the throne. The bed alone was perhaps four meters long. He was in the Leader's living chambers. 

He thought of calling out, but he didn't open his mouth. He didn't move from his spot by the door either. He was nervous, perhaps because of Tarlingen's fear of this woman. Life and Death, she had said. _You're already dead_ , he reminded himself. It was a sobering thought, though it didn't remove all of his anxiety. The Leader still intimidated him. 

Again, he thought of calling out but wondered if that would be a breach of protocol. Should he step farther inside? Surely, if she was here, she would have heard the door close. 

"Come, Healer," he heard. Three voices in harmony. 

He took a step and then another. He forgot protocol and merely walked. But when she stepped out from around a corner, he remembered himself and bowed as he had learned from Tarlingen in the throne room. 

"Rise," she told him. "You learn quickly, Healer. That is good. But in this case, it is not practical." 

That threw him off guard, though he did rise. She didn't sound nearly as imperious as she had in their earlier meeting. He didn't know what to say. 

"We do not have many Glif, you and us," she continued. "I am sure that you did not wish to die. Neither do we. When we are not alone, you should bow and behave accordingly. But when we are alone, who is to see that you do not?" 

He looked up at her. She was not dressed in splendid robes, but in a simple one. Her face was bare, and dark green, oozing lesions marred the beauty of her blue Gidari face. "No one," he answered. 

She nodded. "You will need to look at us, to touch us. We sent for you even when you were an alien, knowing this. Now you are Honored. It matters less." With that, she sat down on the bed, which brought her to eye level with Bashir. "Please," she said, "help us." 

Bashir felt his anxiety melt away. She was no longer intimidating. She was vulnerable, and she needed his help. She was his patient. He took out his tricorder and moved toward her. 

* * *

The nurses and med-techs all gathered in the Infirmary. Jabara brought the wine and Reyna the cups. They took turns, each telling what they had thought of Dr. Bashir when he had first come to the station or when they had first started working with him. And then what they felt about him now, after half a dozen years with him as their doctor, their leader. 

"He was young, and far too eager," Ilona said. "To him, this was 'frontier medicine,' while to us, this monstrosity of a station had been our oppressor. And a more technologically advanced oppressor. It was the opposite of frontier to me. It was, is, a place to join the rest of the galaxy and yet, still remain Bajoran. And in time, I grew to love it here. It's still a monstrosity, but the Infirmary isn't. It's light and airy and comforting. And Dr. Bashir brought that, not just the equipment but the comforting. He had the best bedside manner of any doctor I ever worked with in the camps, that's for sure. He could be funny, or just so sincere. And he was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant." 

"I remember the Gidari," Reyna said. "How scared I was when they took me. I hadn't been on the station very long. But I also remember how forceful he was in telling them to let me go. And they did. And he was gentle and sweet as he took care of me and gave me back my voice. I remember when they found him after the murderer had poisoned him. I was determined to do my part to make sure he lived, because he had done it for me." 

"I've heard stories," Garrett, one of the med-techs said. "He has this voice. He can make anyone obey him. He got Odo to hold a neck wound and got his med-kit back from those warring tribes that had captured them. He just turns on that voice, and even enemies obey." 

Some of the others laughed at that. "But he only used that superpower in a medical context. He never used it for evil." 

Jabara laughed, too. She'd heard that voice once or twice. "I never knew him to do anything evil. Not once. Some doctors become jaded, and so much had happened that could have done that to him. But he never lost his compassion, his need to help. He was good man, and an even better doctor. 

"No doubt they'll send us another one," she added. "And we'll resent them because they're not him. But we have to give them the same chance we gave that awkward, too eager, med school graduate that came here all those years ago. He grew on us, we grew on him. The new doctor deserves no less." 

She held up her glass. "To Dr. Julian Bashir!" All the others raised their glasses and joined her toast. Some drifted on after that, but a few stayed and continued to share stories. Jabara cleaned up the glasses and the wine and made sure the Infirmary was tidy and ready for whatever need should arise. Bashir would have had it no other way. 

* * *

Kira had waited for five minutes after Bashir left before she wandered out into the hall. She was met with stares, moreso now that she was unhooded. But they were respectful stares and anyone who came close enough bowed to her. "I need to speak with Liytner Tarlingen Nardek," she told one man, another who wore black. 

"I will find her, Honored," he replied, bowing again. 

Kira bowed back and the man scurried away. Liytner was a high rank, but Honored appeared to be higher. That might be useful in implementing an escape. She imagined Odo back on the station, mourning for her. He would be lost. He already felt so alone, cut off from his people. Now he would have only his work. Would that be enough for him? She remembered with a shudder his words to her when the female changeling had been aboard the station. It was something she tried not to think about, a mistake he said was past. But it troubled her now. Would he turn again away from the Federation without her there to hold him? 

A voice disturbed her thoughts. "You asked for me?" 

She turned to see Tarlingen standing behind her. She didn't bow, but Kira didn't mind. She was the liaison. She would have a lot of contact with her and Bashir. It would be pointless to bow every time. "Yes," Kira answered. "I'm not a Healer, but I want to help. I'm Honored, so I should have a purpose, too. Doctor Bashir wants me to gather plants, herbs, anything that might be of medicinal value." 

Tarlingen nodded. "A wise desire," she said, "and a worthy Purpose. Gather what you need. I will take you out." 

Tarlingen led her past a labyrinth of corridors and chambers before they finally emerged outside. Kira covered her head again before stepping out into the crimson sunlight. "Is it late?" she asked, looking at the darkening sky. 

"It will not be dark for several more hours," Tarlingen explained. "We have time." 

Kira had anticipated being taken out near the village, but instead they were high on the mountain, yet still below the tree line. She could see for miles where she stood, and she looked out over the valleys below. There were other mountains behind her, but the land was open in front of her. She could see a prairie of tall, orange grass and large animals roaming it. She couldn't make out any details but they had to be huge to be seen from that distance. A low, rumbling growl came to her ears, and she saw one of the animals attacking another. There were groves of trees and some of the animals fed on the highest leaves. She saw a flutter of movement, like a flame dancing along the grass. 

"Darglin," Tarlingen's voice spoke softly from behind her. "They are the most regal of our world. Mighty hunters and yet, when they fly, they are full of grace and beauty." 

"It's a bird?" Kira asked. Then she could see it, the points of fire were wings. Their color blended so well with the grass beneath that the bird was almost invisible. If she hadn't seen the movement, she would not have seen it at all. 

"I believe that would be your equivalent, yes," Tarlingen answered, "though that does not sound very regal to my ears." 

She sounded disappointed, which was not Kira's desired reaction. "It's magnificent," she added, hoping to convey her appreciation of the animal. It _was_ magnificent. Perhaps Bashir had been right. Maybe they hadn't come here by choice, but getting to see Gidar was a 'bright side' she hadn't given much thought to until now. The planet was gorgeous, though alien in every way. 

"Come," Tarlingen said, drawing her away and into the woods. "Follow me carefully. There are dangers. You may take samples from what you see. I will warn you if something is harmful." 

Kira noted Tarlingen was armed with a spear, which, given her own Honored status, could only be assumed to be for protection. Considering the size of the animals out on the prairie, she wouldn't be surprised if protection were necessary. 

It was still odd to her to see trees that weren't green. Leaves were only orange on Bajor during the autumn, but here it was apparently a more permanent sight. The weather was warm, and none of the leaves were falling, so Kira decided it was probably summer in this region of Gidar. There was a soft breeze blowing through the branches, and she heard the sounds of little creatures all around her. Tarlingen walked on confidently, though, so Kira assumed they hadn't run into any dangers yet. But she kept aware nonetheless. Dead or not, she didn't want her body damaged any more than it already was. As she walked she snapped off twigs and leaves and put them in the basket she carried. She took a snapshot with a Gidari device Bashir had translated, so that he could know where each sample had come from. 

They went deeper into the woods, and Kira could just barely see the red beyond the orange above her. She had to push branches out of her way and watch her step in the undergrowth. Tarlingen stopped suddenly, and since Kira was watching her feet and not her companion, she nearly slammed into the Gidari. "Haftha," Tarlingen whispered, pointing to the trunk of a tree off to the right. Kira could now see the large insect there. "Might the Healer find it of use?" 

"Possible," Kira whispered back. She had thought mostly about plants, but the thought of animals had not slipped her mind. She had several small bags with her, too. "Can you get it?" 

"It would sting me," Tarlingen replied. "But you would not be harmed. Walk slowly, silently, and snatch it quickly." 

Kira took a deep breath. She hadn't planned on catching animals with her bare hands. Okay, so she was wearing gloves, but that wasn't the point. She handed Tarlingen the basket and removed one small bag. She held it in her left hand and crept slowly toward the haftha. It was actually somewhat exhilarating, reminiscent of her days in the resistance. They would sometimes have to stalk and hunt animals for food. Though she usually didn't have to catch the animal by hand. 

The haftha saw her but made no move to run off. It flicked its long tongue at her, and she forced herself to remember that she couldn't feel pain. Nothing to fear. She stepped closer. Arm's distance. The haftha lifted one of its legs and took a step up the tree. But it wasn't fast enough. Kira's arm snapped out and she caught the insect across the middle. It snaked its tongue out and grabbed at her with its sharp feet. She marveled at how she could feel the sensation of it holding on to her, but not the pain. She stuffed it into the bag and then pulled it off of her with her other hand. 

"Well done," Tarlingen complimented. "Shall we continue on?" 

* * *

It was clear as soon as he opened the tricorder. "You're a Trill!" he exclaimed, forgetting all about decorum and protocol. 

She snapped her head around to him, but he didn't see anger in her white eyes. "We haven't heard that name for centuries. But we had not doubted that you would recognize the one within us." 

Bashir wasn't quite sure where to go from there. His duty was to continue the examination, but his curiosity wanted to know more. Thankfully, he was equipped to do both. He continued his scan and tried to bring the Leader out. "I have a friend," he said. "A joined Trill." 

"I have been Leader of the Gidari for longer than your friend has been in existence," she said, though without raising her voice. "You have questions." It appeared she was willing to talk. 

"Yes," he answered, stopping the scan. "But only if you don't mind." 

"You are Honored," she replied, dipping her head in deference. "I would not deny you." 

Heartened, Bashir reopened the tricorder and picked up where he'd left off. "How did you come to Gidar?" 

She smiled, and her smile was beguiling, set into that beautiful face. Not for the first time, Bashir felt it was a pity that the Gidari hid themselves away from others. "That is the only question, is it not?" she said. "You are wise." 

Now Bashir smiled. "There are those who would argue," he replied, not realizing that he was opening up to her, just as she was to him. Since the discovery of her symbiont, she had ceased to engender the fearful reverence she had in the throne room. 

"And you would be one of them," she countered. 

"You are wise yourself," he offered. 

She was silent for a moment, and he worried that she had decided not to answer. He looked up from the tricorder and waited. 

"I was Trill," she began, "eight centuries before this. My host was Nailati, and I have chosen her name for myself in return for her sacrifice. She and three others were exploring this region of space. They crashed on this world. Only Nailati survived, though she could not breathe the air here. I could feel her dying. 

"My people had never seen such a craft in the sky like that which had fallen. They came to investigate. I saw them first, uncovered and glorious, through Nailati's failing eyes. Even as she lay dying, gasping for the poisonous air, she tried to tell them of me. 

"The priestess was the first to understand. I used a scanning device so that she could see me within the host. The priestess took out her dagger and held it up," the Leader, Nailati, explained, holding her own hands up as if they held the knife, "offering a prayer to the Creator, though I could not then understand the words. Through Nailati's eyes, I saw the dagger plunged through me—through my host. I saw the priestess cut herself with the same blade. Even as Nailati still drew her futile breaths, the priestess took me from her and placed me within herself. I saw Nailati die from new eyes." 

She had acted out the whole thing with her hands and Bashir could see the pain and the wonder on her face much as it must have been on that day eight hundred years before. 

"But the Joining," the Leader continued, "was not easy. I did not know of Gidari or Gidar. The chemicals that had killed Nailati were foreign to me even as they coursed through my new host. The priestess suffered greatly from her wound and the pain of the changing. And now, my people knew of aliens. The Leader was fearful, and he came to our dwelling to destroy the alien that was within the priestess, to kill me. Despite her pain, she stood up to face him, rising from her bed for the first time in three days. Only then were we aware of the change. The Leader was so small. He grasped his chest at the sight of us and fell dead at our feet. 

"There were others who feared us and sought our death, but none could stand against us. The enemies were vanquished and their supporters destroyed. All who knew of the change were gone and we, with all our knowledge and strength became Leader of the Gidari. We have been Leader since that day." 

Bashir had listened, enraptured by the tale, picturing it all. The ancient dying Trill, the violent transfer of the symbiont, the battles fought. The introduction of one Trill symbiont had changed the society as much as it had the host's body. And yet, that society had remained distinctly Gidari. 

"It is I," Nailati told him, "who told my people of other worlds. I taught them to fly among the stars. My people now trade with many aliens, but we keep ourselves pure. We are Trill no longer. We are Gidari." 

* * *

Kira remembered teasing Dax once about a paluku on one of Bajor's moons. She was beginning to regret even that light-hearted taunting. She'd seen more different and frightening creatures in the last three hours in this one forest on this one mountain on this one continent on Gidar than she had her entire life up to that point—to the point of her death, though she tried not to think about that. In just those three hours, apart from the magnificent beasts in the valleys, she'd seen sloths as big as two-storey houses, waterbugs which preyed on the sloths, plants that slapped her hand when she tried to pick the flower from its stem, birds as small as insects, and insects as large as O'Brien's cat. 

One creature had captivated her. It was an adorable-looking creature, small and covered in long, soft fur with large brown eyes. Kira thought it not too dissimilar from the stuffed bear Bashir kept in his quarters back on the station. It sat on a tree branch, half-hidden by folliage, and watched as Tarlingen warily walked past it. Tarlingen had waved Kira by, never taking her eyes off the little bear. Kira watched it, too, caught up in its luscious fur and sympathetic eyes. She didn't see the fallen branch at her feet. It snapped when she stepped on it and the bear snapped too. Its eyes closed to menacing slits and its lips pulled back into a snarl that revealed rows of razor-fine teeth. It leapt toward them, teeth-bared and claws unfurled. Only Tarlingen's quick skill with the spear kept one of them from being bitten or shredded by the thing. 

The next creature of note was not so terrifying. It was annoying. It was a _midulka_ , which translated into Standard as "mimic", and that was exactly what it did. It mimicked. Everything. Any words one might say, the direction one took; it stopped when one stopped and started when one started. And it had decided Kira was the most interesting thing in the forest. It had been following them for about forty-five minutes already and seemed not likely to give up. 

The mimic was, if one were playing by Bajoran rules of appearance, a dangerous animal. It was taller than the bear-creature had been, with leathery skin and clawed toes. It walked hunched over but on its back legs, holding its forearms in front of it much like Kira held the basket she carried. Its toothy mouth seemed to grin at her as it cocked its head from side to side. 

But this wasn't Bajor, and things were deceptive on Gidar. This was a docile creature, a plant-eater according to Tarlingen's quiet whispers. The mimic either didn't hear or didn't consider her its source of amusement. It only repeated the words that Kira said. It had found her at the slapping plant and hadn't even been scared off by the bear-creature. Kira had tried to shoo it away but that only drew its interest more keenly. It had tried to shoo her away but followed when she tried to leave it behind. Tarlingen only shook her head and kept walking. 

The forest was getting darker, though there was still enough light for a few more hours, according to Tarlingen. Enough time to get back to the palace before nightfall. Kira got the feeling that Tarlingen didn't want to be outside after dark. From what she'd seen in the daylight, Kira couldn't blame her. 

The mimic followed them the entire way through the forest. Kira stopped for a moment at the break of the trees, and the mimic did the same. She wasn't paying him any mind though. She was marveling at the color of the sunset. The sun itself had become the deepest blood-red. The sky that touched its edges was a glowing crimson that darkened as it reached up toward the mountains and over her head. It didn't seem right that there would be light at all. 

Tarlingen stepped past her. "We should go. It will be dark very soon." 

"It will be dark very soon," the mimic repeated, apparently having decided that a moving, talking Tarlingen was more interesting than a standing, staring Kira. 

Tarlingen sighed, unhappy with the mimic's change in taste. The mimic sighed too. 

They followed the treeline for another fifty yards before Tarlingen abruptly stopped, which caused the mimic to run right into her. Kira stopped too, and tried to see in the dimming light. She heard a snap to her left, just into the trees. Tarlingen turned her back, but Kira was curious and she peered harder into the folliage. 

Then she saw it, close to the ground, perhaps half a meter up into the lower branches of a leafy tree. It was long and slender, like a tenticle, and it reached up and grasped something in the tree. The snap sounded again and the tentacle lowered, its prize wrapped in its grip. 

Kira followed the unusual arc of the tentacle as it folded itself forward toward the ground. Kira crouched down to see it better. 

"Stand now!" Tarlingen whispered. 

"Stand now!" the mimic repeated. 

Kira ignored them, having finally decided what it was the tentacle had grasped. A nut. It wasn't even a tentacle at all. It was a tail. A prehensile tail, to be exact, and it belonged to a snake which now was delicately nibbling the morsel it had plucked. Its thick, reptilian legs confused her for a moment, but its head and slender body gave it more similarities to snakes, as she knew them, than to lizards. 

Her curiosity satisfied, Kira stood. Tarlingen and the mimic were both facing away from the trees still. "What?" she asked, keeping her voice low, but not whispering as they had. 

Tarlingen's head snapped around. Her eyes were wide. But she still didn't face the trees. 

Kira heard a chirp and turned back to see the snake step slowly toward her on its two front legs—or rather, its only legs. She backed up a bit, but Tarlingen stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. The mimic tried that as well, but could only reach her rib cage. 

The snake emerged from the underbrush not one meter from Kira's feet. It still had the nut tucked carefully in its tail, which it now held straight out over its head toward her. It placed the nut on the ground and then lowered its tail. 

"Take it," Tarlingen ordered. 

"Take it," said the mimic. 

"Take what?" Kira asked. She really didn't know if they were referring to the nut or the snake itself, which might be a useful sample for Bashir 

"Take the nut," Tarlingen told her. Her voice was quiet but also urgent. The mimic dutifully repeated. 

Kira really didn't know what they were so afraid of. The snake ate nuts. It obviously was not a carnivore. Besides, she had several of the nuts in her basket already. "I already have a sample of those," Kira replied. 

The snake edged forward a step more, and nudged the nut toward her with its nose. Then it backed up to where it was before. 

"Take the nut and eat it!" Tarlingen demanded, obviously agitated. 

"Take the nut and eat it!" the mimic insisted, hopping nervously from one foot to the other. 

"I'm not hungry," she told them, finding it annoying that she'd have to remind Tarlingen of that. It was Tarlingen who had explained her present state, after all. 

The snake moved forward again, nudging the nut with its nose. But this time it flicked its tongue out a few times. 

"Take the nut!" Tarlingen urged, pushing her forward. 

"Take the nut!" the mimic squealed. 

Kira resisted. She'd had enough of orders and pushing. She was Honored, and she decided now was a good time to call on the respect that apparently warranted in the Gidari culture. "Will you please explain to me what is so important about that nut?" 

The snake didn't move back this time, but stayed right near the nut. It flicked its tongue again, and its eyes flashed red. 

Tarlingen pleaded. "Take it!" The mimic merely darted away. 

Kira swallowed. The mimic had run away. The mimic hadn't left their sides for over three hours. It had left the forest without fear. There was obviously something to that snake. 

Kira slowly knelt and crept toward the snake. _It can't hurt me,_ she told herself. _I'm Honored._ The snake's eyes returned to normal, and it again nudged the nut to her. This time she took it. 

"Eat it," Tarlingen whispered, much more calmly now. 

Kira wondered if her sense of taste had been altered by the substance within her in the same way her sense of feeling had. She lifted the nut to her mouth and tried not to think about the spots where the snake had already started to eat. She popped it into her mouth, deciding to chew and swallow it quickly so she wouldn't have to think about it. But she nearly spat it right back out. It was the most bitter thing she'd ever tasted. It burned her tongue and made her eyes water. 

"Show him you like it," Tarlingen coached. 

She didn't like it. Not at all. But she nodded and mmm'd so the snake would think she did. It turned abruptly and darted back into the trees. 

"Don't spit it out," Tarlingen admonished. "Just swallow it down." 

_Easy for her to say,_ Kira thought. "Explain that," she mumbled, still trying to swallow the foul thing. 

"That snake could have destroyed you in less than a gleer, a minute," Tarlingen explained, leading the way back to the palace. "It's the most venomous creature on Gidar. Its venom causes rapid necrosis. You would have rotted, Honored or not." 

Kira swallowed the last of it. "And the nut?" 

Tarlingen didn't even bother turning around. "It likes to share." 

* * *

Ezri Dax clutched hard the little bear to her chest as if, by holding it, she could somehow hold on to Julian. It hurt so much more this time, and she knew that was because it was 'this time'. Not the only time. She and Jadzia had lost him three times now. Four, really, but they hadn't known he was replaced by a changeling and held prisoner by the Jem'Hadar. Each time before he'd been her friend. Each time before, he came back. 

But this time she knew he was more than a friend. This time she knew she loved him. And this time she knew he wouldn't be coming back. Dr. Gerani had run a DNA test on the blood they'd found just to be sure. This time, he really was dead. 

The part of her that was Ezri Tigan had never felt that kind of pain before. She had lost her father when she was too young to really understand what death meant. Her chest hurt now like someone had sliced her in two. Everything she saw—the bear, her own uniform, even a bare wall—reminded her of him and told her again that there would be no happy ending this time. 

The part of her that was Dax offered the comfort of experience to them both. There had many loved ones lost in the lives of its many hosts. Time would dull the pain. Life would go on. It always had before. 

But with each new host, Dax felt feelings anew. And the knowledge that it would pass eventually did not lessen the pain that Ezri Dax felt. And combined with her present loss was the full weight of all her loved ones lost through time. 

Ezri clutched the toy harder to her chest, hoping that somehow it could bring her the same comfort it had given Julian as a child. 

* * *

Julian Bashir found it a lot easier to analyze the changes in Nailati's physiology caused by the symbiosis than the symptoms caused by the Blight the Dominion had introduced. The latter had frustrated him for months after his return to DS9 following his discovery of the vaccine on Boranis III. The former was new and fascinating. No other known species that had acted as host to a Trill symbiont had ever had such drastic changes. In fact, the symbiosis had caused an alteration in the Leader's DNA itself within hours of being joined. 

But it was that DNA change that made her even more susceptible to the disease the Dominion had cooked up for the Gidari people. For the Gidari, the disease would likely behave as it had on Teplan. The weak and infirm—and the Leader—would fall quickly, leaving the others to carry it for months, years, or even decades before they quickened. 

One thing was reassuring, however. No matter what changes had taken place in the Gidari hosts DNA, the symbiont remained static. Not even the disease had affected it, just as it hadn't affected Dax back on Teplan III, so it could be passed on to a new host if necessary. The Dominion was most likely unaware of the dual nature of the Leader's physiology, otherwise they would have taken the symbiont under account when designing the Gidari's Blight. The loss of the Leader would have destablized the entire cultural and political infrastructure on Gidar. 

He was startled by the door. Kira stepped through backwards, saying something to someone in the hall. She had a basket which she set on the floor so she could shut the thick wooden door. 

Finally, once it was closed, she turned and leaned back against it. "You won't believe it," she told him simply. 

Bashir smiled at that. "Neither will you." 

"Did you find the cure?" she asked, standing up straight again. 

Deflated, Bashir's smile vanished. "I'm a doctor, Colonel, not a miracle worker. But I did find something very intriguing. In fact, if I weren't already dead, I'd probably be killed for knowing too much." 

Something in the basket moved and a small, wriggling bag fell out. Kira snatched it up and held it out to him. "I found at least three things that probably would have killed me if I weren't already . . . Honored. There are creatures out there. . . ." She let that hang without offering any descriptions. 

"I was wondering how you'd done," Bashir told her, taking the bag. "What is it?" 

"Haftha," Kira replied, picking up the basket again. "And that's only the most dangerous thing in the basket. Outside, on the mountain, in the forest, is another story. Don't even get me started on the valley. What about you? What did you find?" 

Bashir set the haftha's bag back in the basket and leaned closer so she would hear him. "A Trill," he whispered. 

"What?!" Kira exclaimed, forgetting all about the basket. "Where? How? Like us?" 

Bashir put a finger to his mouth. It was a rather big secret in Gidari society; they didn't need anyone listening at the door. "The Leader," he told her, speaking very quietly. "Gidari host, Trill symbiont, older than Dax by about five hundred years." 

Kira whispered, too. "How? The air here, the light." 

"The Trill host died," Bashir explained. "A ship crashed here. The Trill host was dying, but made a priestess who found her understand. The priestess took the symbiont into her own body and changed. Right down to the DNA." 

Kira sat down on a chair and didn't say anything for a few minutes. "What about descendants?" she finally asked. "Why aren't we seeing giant Gidari running around?" 

"Sterile," Bashir answered, turning to lean back on the counter. 

Kira stood. "There were successors though," she said, though it sounded more like a question. "This one Gidari isn't eight hundred years old." 

Bashir shook his head. "No, but no Leader has had a child since the first became joined. They must have some other system for choosing a Leader. Or she had her heir before becoming the Leader at all." 

"She didn't tell you?" 

"I didn't ask," Bashir replied, sitting down beside Kira. "If I don't find an antidote, we'll likely witness the succession. I didn't want to remind her of that." 

At that moment, the haftha's bag wriggled out of the basket again. Bashir jumped up to grab it before it got free of the bag. "So what else did you bring me?" 

As Kira told him about her day in the forest, Bashir sorted the spoils. He didn't relish the idea of hurting the few small animals Kira had brought, but he did take samples of blood and venom and run them through some extensive scans. 

The plants were interesting as well. No chloroform to produce oxygen, they were mostly orange in color. Many contained chemicals and components he couldn't even recognize. It would take weeks to analyze them thoroughly. But he didn't have weeks. He didn't even have one week. 

"The thing actually followed me around, repeating everything I said," Kira was saying. "Only the snake scared him off." 

Bashir was only half listening. He had other things on his mind. He was trying to remember everything he had learned about the Blight. And he was calculating just how much time he had left before his "second" life followed his first. 


	4. Chapter Three

****

**Star Trek: Deep Space Nine  
The Honored **  
by Gabrelle Lawson  
****

**Chapter Three**

****  
** **

Jaresh Kesa arrived before the new doctor, but Captain Sisko was there to meet him at the airlock. He was a major, just like Kira when she'd first been assigned to the station. He was short like she was and had red hair like her. But the similarities ended there. He was smiling when he stepped out of the airlock. He stood at attention and saluted. Sisko appreciated formality, but didn't think a salute was necessary. Still he saluted back, if only to end the formalities. "Welcome aboard, Major Jaresh." He extended a hand, which the Bajoran took. 

"It's a pleasure, Emissary." The man was practically floating. 

"Captain-will do fine, Major," Sisko reminded him, "especially when either one of us is on duty." 

Jaresh looked stricken. "I'm sorry, Captain," he pleaded. "Please forgive me." 

Sisko sighed inwardly but didn't let it show. _Not like Kira at all_ , he thought. "Nothing to forgive," he said. "I am the Emissary. It just makes it hard to get things done. For practical reasons, I'm Captain." 

"Understood, sir." 

That out of the way, Sisko continued with the introductions. The rest of the senior staff—except the Chief Medical Officer, of course—were there with him. "This is my Strategic Operations Officer, Lieutenant Commander Worf." 

Worf bowed his head slightly. "Major." 

Jaresh swallowed as he looked up at the Klingon. "Nice to meet you," he offered timidly. 

Sisko tried not to smile. He motioned toward Odo. "Chief of Security Odo." 

Odo also nodded his head. He made no move to take the hand that Jaresh offered. His own were behind his back. Polite, but cold, Sisko assessed. _To be expected, I suppose,_ he thought. It was better than Worf had acted when Ezri came aboard. 

Ezri offered her own hand and her own introduction. "Ezri Dax, Station Counselor." She was smiling and bubbly. Leave it to Dax. Sisko was glad she was there. Replacements were a part of duty, but it was hard when someone was replacing a friend, harder still when they were replacing a lover. 

O'Brien was next. "Our Chief of Operations," Sisko introduced him, "Miles O'Brien." The Irishman was polite and took the man's hand, but he said nothing. He hadn't said much since the _Defiant_ returned anyway. Sisko imagined it would be worse when the new doctor came aboard. Mfuma was his name. He was scheduled to arrive the day after tomorrow. Nearly fresh from Starfleet Medical. Sisko smiled at that. It had worked out well once before, perhaps it would again. 

* * *

Tarlingen arrived early the next morning, if the chronometer was accurate. Bashir hadn't once felt tired or sleepy. Part and parcel for being Honored, it seemed. Kira had yawned a few times, but Bashir knew it was from boredom, not weariness. Despite the "event" of the previous day and the completely alien culture they'd been transplanted to, Bashir felt he was in his element. Medicine was not a drudgery to him, not a chore. It challenged him, excited him, consumed him. And kept his mind off other things. 

Kira, though, was a soldier, an administrator, a leader, but no scientist. The incremental steps and methodic pace of experimentation was an exercise in sheer tedium. Still, she was as stuck here as he was, and just as unneedful of sleep. So she had let Bashir assign her to tasks that didn't require interpretation of data but the mere collection of it. And though she had taken on those tasks without even one complaint, she had yawned. 

So while they worked, they talked. About what Kira had seen of Gidar, about what Bashir had learned of the Leader, and as the hours—Glif—dragged on, about their lives up to this point, and then how they wanted to get back home to DS9. 

When Tarlingen arrived, Bashir was glad for it. It wasn't that he hadn't appreciated the conversation or enjoyed the work, but he welcomed the change of scenery her presence foretold. Kira pushed herself away from the table with enthusiasm and returned the bow Tarlingen greeted them with. 

"Have you a cure, Healer?" Tarlingen asked, getting right to the point. 

Bashir raised his eyebrows at her question. "I'm a doctor," he told her, "not a magician." He turned his back on her to retrieve the PADD with his notes. "Nor am I a miracle worker despite the fact that I was murdered yesterday and am now standing in the royal palace on the enigmatic Gidari homeworld and privy to its many secrets." 

"Then your meeting with the Leader was productive at least," Tarlingen replied with not even the slightest hint of offense or sense of humor. "Have you found anything?" 

Bashir handed her the PADD. "I was able to isolate the viral pathogen and compare it to the one found on Teplan III." 

"It's is the same then?" she asked, turning the PADD in her hands as if trying to decipher its secrets. 

"To an untrained eye, perhaps," Bashir answered as he leaned back against the table. "But there are significant differences. The original virus may not have even survived the environment here. A few days in your sun would have at least inhibited its replication rate. It has been altered for the unique conditions of Gidar and Gidari physiology." 

"If you do not find a cure," Tarlingen said, as she handed the PADD back to the doctor, "the Leader will die." 

"Yes," Bashir agreed, "and I didn't find a cure on Teplan III either. I had months. Now I have a week. So what happens if I fail?" 

"We are Gidari," Tarlingen stated, straightening even taller. "We will go on. A new Leader will be chosen, and we will make the Enemy pay dearly for this attack upon us." 

Bashir nodded, feeling quite sure they would—and could—do just that. And how then would the war go with the unknown might of Gidar on their side? He really wanted to be around to see that. "I believe the Leader will still be healthy for another few months. You will have more time to study—" 

"We have only the time that you have." She met his gaze without blinking those ominous white eyes. "We cannot allow this plague to spread." 

"So you'd kill her," he challenged. "Just like that? What of your government?" 

"There is always an heir," Tarlingen replied. "Our Leader herself decreed this. No more Gidari are to die of this. She will be the last if she must." 

Bashir nodded. Having met her, he knew she would order such a thing. As the Trill had sacrificed herself for her symbiont so long ago, so the Leader would sacrifice herself for her people. He wondered then, if Tarlingen knew why the Leader was different and if so, why she hadn't asked a very important question. 

"There's no way then," Kira said, finally speaking up, "that the blight can be spread to the successor?" Bashir curved his lips in just a hint of a smile at her sublty, and he watched their liaison for her reaction. He was disappointed. 

"Our healers were not infected until spending fourteen glif with the Leader. And we will take precautions." Tarlingen then turned back to Bashir. "You will see the Leader again in one glif. You can find the way?" 

Bashir nodded. He mentally pictured the winding path, thankful for the near photographic memory his enhancemesn afforded. 

"Good," Tarlingen said, nodding once before turning to face Kira. "I would like to take you to the market. Perhaps there is something from the valleys that is not on the mountain." 

Kira brightened instantly, having been offered a diversion from her boredom. "I'll get the basket." 

"Take this with you," Bashir said, as he dropped one small, squirming bag into the basket. "And release it." 

"It is not necessary," Tarlingen interjected. "There are many others." 

"There is no reason to keep it," Bashir held. "I've got all I need from it." 

Tarlingen eyed him for a moment and then bowed. "As you wish, it shall be done." 

Bashir returned the bow but shared a look with Kira before she left with the Gidari Liytner. Perhaps they _could_ get back to DS9, Honored as they were. 

* * *

Captain Sisko stood at the podium, feeling the weight of command extra heavily. The war had hit home again. And in such a personal way. _Well, hadn't that been with the way with Jadzia, too?_ he thought. Then he pushed that thought away. It was past Jadzia's time. This time was for Nerys and Julian. 

"When I first came here," he told the gathered crowd, "I didn't want to be here, and that was about the only thing Kira Nerys and I agreed on. Somehow, through these years, I've come to call this station my home and Nerys a trusted, beloved friend. She was forthright and strong but the Occupation had not completely killed her compassion or hardened her heart. I changed, she changed, and the galaxy changed around us. In the end, she was one hell of an officer, a credit to Bajor and one to whom I trusted this station and this command should I have fallen. 

"She fell instead and, though we have found someone to fill her post, we shall find no one else truly worthy to replace her. We cannot commit her body to the soil, but we can commit her spirit to the Prophits. Colonel Kira Nerys was above all, a woman of honor, of loyalty, of service, and of faith." 

Vedek Varda took over then and the captain—and Emmisary—tried to pay attention. He couldn't. His thoughts were drawn back to her just before she had left on that mission. She'd stood in his office determined to go with Julian. 

"It's a medical problem, Colonel," he'd reminded her. "And Julian is not a junior officer. It's no more than a few hours there and back." 

"A lot can happen in a few hours," she'd retorted. "Espcially to him. And usually when he's alone. Besides, he's been replaced, what, three times now? Can you afford to send anyone off alone in a runabout like that while we're at war?" 

"Why not someone from Security then?" 

"Maybe because I'm concerned for him," she'd replied, sinking down into one of the chairs. "And he's concerned, too, and just too stubborn to admit it. He could use more than an escort, Captain. He could use a friend." 

She'd persuaded him and she was right. There had been a reason for concern, and he'd been callous to overlook it. But now she was gone and so was the one he had kept overlooking. The vedek was finished, and now it was Julian's turn. 

"Dr. Julian Bashir was a brilliant physician. Some may say he came by that illegitimately but there was more to him than his genetic enchancements made him. He had a devotion to his patients unmatched by any doctor I've ever met. A determination to do what is right even at his own peril. He had an idealism that no adversity could ever quench—even if it darkened for a time. 

"He was gifted, not just in intelligence or stamina but in _light._ Light is what he brought to this station. Light is what he brought to a Cardassian tailor no one would befriend, to Internment Camp 371, to this crew though beseiged by war and tragedy. Light is what he brought even to Auschwitz==where he suffered for nearly two months. 

"Max Zeidl, the only one of his camp friends to survive the war, and who didn't know that Julian was a man from the future, wrote this about 'Der Englander.' as he was called: 

"'He was a strange man. I can't explain why we were friends. We could barely communicate, and not at all without a translator. Vlád'a befriended him in near silence on the train from Bialystok and couldn't explain why either. Except that Bashir seemed to know something. I befriended Vlád'a and Bashir by association then. And when Vlád'a was gone, the bond between Bashir and I didn't break. And why? He was a doctor, yes, but he more often needed care than gave it to others. And he was singled out—for punishment and favor—by an SS officer. Why would I association with such a dangerous man? Why do I miss him even now? 

"'Maybe because Vlád'a was right. He knew something. And maybe because he didn't flaunt it, didn't hold it like a prize or a badge to buy him privilege. He didn't rage that he didn't belong. He didn't cry foul, that he wasn't even Jewish, that he didn't desearve to be treated that way. He didn't though. Though he suffered, in some aspects, more than us, his companions, he cared for us, worried about us, protected us when he could. He was a light, a piece of civilization, a true kindness among the blackest night, the utterest hell and cruelty a man could inflict upon another man. And not even Heiler could beat it out of him. 

"'He was English but I'm still not sure where he came from. Not really. He didn't belong there or then. He wasn't made for that time....'" 

"A few years ago, Julian recorded his own story of that time, for the archives at Yad Vashem in Israel. But Max was right. He wasn't made for that time. He was made for our time, and I, for one, am grateful that he chose to serve Starfleet, to serve this station, this crew. We were privileged to have had his medical expertise and talents. We were more gifted to count him a friend. 

"Let us take one minute now, to pray or to simply remember, our departed friends, Colonel Kira Nerys and Dr. Julian Bashir." 

* * *

This time, when Bashir went to see the Leader, Nailati, he wore disposable gloves and booties over his others gloves and boots so he wouldn't need new boots or gloves when he left the room, as last time. He had the disposables in the medical supplies meant for the outpost. He might as well use them. 

Nailati was reclining again. Her lesions were still black, though they oozed a greenish mucous he hadn't see on Teplan III. "How are you feeling today?" 

"We itch," she replied. "Though we resist scratching." 

"I could try to find something to help with the itching," Bashir offered. "Do the lesions hurt at all?" 

"No and no," she replied. "We have limited time. Your priority is a cure. Secondary is a vaccine. Stopping the itch would only waste valuable glif." 

Bashir nodded. "I should take samples of your blood, your saliva, your breath, and I think the mucous from your lesions." He'd brought alone a sample container for that purpose. It was also encased in a disposable bag. 

"That would be wise," she said, sitting up straighter. "Proceed." She held out one of her arms to him, and he drew ten cc's of her blood. He used a swab to dab the mucous from a lesion on her forearm and another for saliva from her mouth. Then he used a small tube to collect her breath. 

"It would help," he told her, as he put the last sample into the container, "if I knew exactly how you were infected." 

"We believe it happened when the Enemy tried to smother us," she answered, reclining again. "It came to Nardinosti on the _Vesmir_. It was disguised as human, but apparently changed to Gidari in the city. It moved about easily after that, given our coverings.. But it was discovered when it tried to pass through the gates. It lingered there, as Gidari must but the gate malfunctioned due to finding the physiology incompatible. The being was detained. 

"We are not concerned with your war," she went on. "But, of course, we have done our research now. The being was brought to our presence just as you and the other were. But this being did not follow our customs. It did not drink from the fountain or bow properly. It demanded our surrender before it ever saw us. Liytner Nardek stood in my stead. She told it we surrendered to no one. That is when we showed ourselves. It did not expect our grandeur." 

Understandable, Bashir thought. Who would expect a giant female Gidari? Or her voices? 

"When we attempted to strike it down," she continued, "our weapon passed through it. It panicked then and it became like—" she hesitated. 

"Liquid?" Bashir suggested. "Viscous and translucent?" When she nodded, he went on. "We call them changelings. One of them is our Chief of Security. But the rest are the Dominion leaders. I've had run-ins with them in the past. One of them killed me." 

"Did it cover your face and enter your mouth and nose?" she asked. 

Bashir realized the changeling had physically delivered the pathogen. "No, it pushed itself into my chest," he told her, and for a moment, he was back in that empty barracks as Whaley/Heiler had done the same, though with less damage. 

"A painful death," she said. "You have our sympathies for that. Your next death will not be painful. You will simply lie down amongst the trees and sleep." 

While that sounded better, it wasn't exactly what he wanted. "How did you survive?" he asked, turning her back to the subject at hand. 

"Nardek. She was fast and drew her finrittor from within her cloak. It became like ash and we coughed it from our throat." 

The finrittor must have been an energy weapon. "It didn't hurt you when she fired?" 

She waved a hand, dismissing it. "A finrittor will not harm Gidari, as it harms others." 

Coded to spare the species. Interesting. "Did your healers determine how the virus was spread, how they got sick?" 

"It is contagious," she replied. "You were wise to cover your boots. They were no not so wise at first, when they collected samples from the creature, and from us." 

That explained the new boots and gloves. He'd suspected as much. It was the main reason why he didn't sit in this room with her. That and he didn't want to be disrespectful. "How long until the lesions formed?" 

"Twenty glif. Twenty more and they had lesions, too. You should have access to all they learned." 

"Thank you," Bashir told her. "You do know that I found no cure on Teplan III." 

She smiled lightly. "Yes, but you found a vaccine," she said. "That, too, is to be lauded." 

"I have less time now than I had then," he reminded her. 

"But now you mustn't stop to eat or to rest. And you have equipment that you did not have there." 

"The equipment made things worse there." 

Her expression didn't change. "Is that way you left your scanning equipment behind today?" 

Bashir nodded. 

"We believe you only found issues with those that had quickened. We have not." 

Bashir offered her a slight smile in return. "It's not exactly the same virus, but it makes sense that they'd leave that property in it. It not only sickened the inhabitants, it took away all their technological advances." 

The smile was gone. "To rocks and stones," she agreed. "That must not happen here." 

"Is that why," he asked, "you'll die if I don't find a cure in a week?" 

"That is why this body will die before you don't find a cure. I will die before you lay down to rest." 

So he had less than a week from the start. And he was down two days already. "You have more confidence in me than I do." 

"You do not give yourself enough credit," she told him. "That vaccine will change the destiny of Teplan III. There will come a time when they return to the sky and to the stars. Because of you." 

Bashir looked away. "Because of Ekoria. Her stamina and determination to see her baby born." 

Nailati surprised him then when she took one of his gloved hands in her enormous one. "She would not have waited through that pain if she did not believe in you." Then she let go. "We believe in you. Do your best. We have contingencies should you fail. But we do not wish to die. We hope you will succeed." 

* * *

Tarlingen took Kira first to the villlage, past that fountain with the fearsome fish in it, and the writhing Maylon/Nostroff. Kira recognized the position he was in from Bashir's telling of his time in Auschwitz. Twice the changely had had him hung the same way. No wonder he had looked away. 

Tarlingen noticed her staring. "He will be dead by nightful," she said. It was so matter-of-fact, as if this Harglin was nothing more than a piece of meat. 

But Kira had questions. "How did he remember Julian, and with the cloak on?" 

"We can see beneath the cloak," Tarlingen told her. "And Nin-Rhek melds the two beings. Harglin Nostroff was beyond remembering anything, so Maylon's memories are dominant. The same happened with Harglin the Elder. He has many memories of your station's Justin Tsingras. But they are only memories. He knows he is Gidari. Harglin the Younger knew this as well. He used Maylon's memories to try and manipulate Bashir, to unsettle him. Please, follow me." 

It definitely had unsettled him. But that did explain a lot. Kira thought it was a good reason not to try that ritual on murderers. But then, Tsingras hadn't been one. They shouldn't have done that either. Still, she followed. She wasn't out here to worry about Maylon's Gidari clone. Tarlingen turned right, away from the main thoroughfare, and Kira saw a somewhat familiar sight. There were three covered pavilions lined up parallel to each other in front of them, and in each were various stalls of produce and what Kira guessed were herbs. 

"We should purchase one of each," Tarlingen said. "We may need more than your basket." She picked up one of her own. Tarlingen didn't bother to bargain with any of the sellers. She simply offered a price and they bowed their heads and gave her what she asked for. By the time they'd reached the end of the third row, both baskets were full and heavy. A brown-cloaked man met them there. Tarlingen gave him her basket then took Kira's and gave that to him as well. Without a word, the man left, and Tarlingen picked up another basket for Kira. "He will deliver them to the Healer," she said. "I have another idea." 

* * *

When Bashir had left the room, the disposable booties, gloves, and bag were taken away. Bashir went back to the laboratory and began analyzing the samples from Nailati. He found the pathogen in both her blood and the mucous. It was not in her breath or saliva. That was interesting, but also helpful. It meant she couldn't transmit the virus from coughing or speaking. It could only be from the oozing of her lesions or her blood. At least with her. She was, of course, not representative of all Gidari. Her DNA was changed during symbiosis. 

Bashir checked the computer for notes from the two healers who had been killed after contracting the virus. He barely had to search. The computer did a good job of intuiting what he would want or need. The results for those two were different. Their lesions had been dry. No mucous was collected. The virus, however, was in their breath as well as their blood. It had become airborne. 

While it was possible that the healers had touched Nailati's mucous or blood, it made more sense that they had contracted the virus directly from the changeling. Perhaps they had breathed in some of the ash when they rushed to help their stricken Leader. But Tarlingen had been there, too. He had questions to ask when Kira returned. 

For now, he ran tests, using computer simulations to see what affects the various samples Kira had collected the evening before would have on the virus itself. Hour after hour stretched by, leading him one way only to be disappointed, then another that ultimately failed. He remembered the trial and error on Teplan III. In the end, his accidental vaccine had come from simple ingredients in certain porportions. It had taken weeks, not hours, so he kept at it until the chronometer told him it was evening, and still Kira had not come back yet. Though two baskets of produce and leafy plants were delivered to his door. 

* * *

From the market, they had stopped at what Kira would have called a pub. It was dark inside so that Kira could barely count the patrons indulging themselves at the bar or at little round tables. Being that they were now indoors, Kira removed her hood. No one seemed to notice at first. The place was noisy from everyone talking at the same time. 

Then one of them looked at the door. All the talking stopped as every blue face turned to stare at her and Tarlingen. _It's either my face or the colors of our robes,_ Kira thought. 

One Gidari, perhaps the owner of the establishment, rushed forward and began to bow, but Tarlnigen waved him up. "I am here for the mid-day meal, Glingsen, nothing more." 

"Yes, of course, Liytner. Your usual choice again today?" He followed them to an empty table with two stools. 

"Yes, though bring a second utensil." Glingsen left the table and Tarlingen addressed Kira. "I thought you might like to taste some of our foods. I can assure you it tastes better than that nut." She even smiled a little. 

Kira's eye brows shot up. "Anything would taste better than that nut," she replied. "Why not." 

"You have no need of sustenance," Tarlingen reminded her, "but you seem to be enjoying the opportunity to experience my world." 

"I guess the Federation's love of exploration has rubbed off on me," Kira admitted. "I've never seen a planet that was so similar and yet so completely different before. We have villages like this one on Bajor. But the colors are so different, more green and brown. Here the colors are what we'd see in the autumn, before the leaves fall off the trees." 

"There are places where leaf-falling happens," Tarlingen commented. Glingsen brought a plate piled high with meat, produce, and what might have been cheese. He handed Kira a utensil, something between a fork and a knife. "But Nodgarin is in a tropical valley. It is only every cold high in the mountains. You may cut a morsel from anything you'd like to try." Glingsen returned with two glasses of a purple liquid. Tarlinged held her cup up. "Wine from one of the flowers you picked yesterday." 

Kira picked up her own glass. "Wouldn't be the one that hit me, would it?" 

Tarlingen laughed. "The same. Taste, you may decide it is worth the beating." 

So Kira did. It was sweet and fruity, but it also made her tongue tingle a bit. Tarlingen moved her plate more to the center of the table so Kira took the offer. The meat tasted like many other meats she'd had, but the spices on it were different. They gave it a smokey, somewhat peachy taste. She tried a little of everything while Tarlingen ate heartily. 

"So, Nardek," Kira said. "Any relation to Sanglin Nardek, the captain of the _Gindarin _?"__

__Tarlingen nodded then washed down her bite of food with a gulp of wine. "My brother. He is older by five years. Our family is quite proud of his achievements."_ _

__"Yours, too, I would think," Kira replied, taking another sip herself. "Being a Liytner and all. What is a Liytner, anyway?"_ _

__"Yes, they are proud. A Liytner is a close advisor and attendant to our Leader. You have seen red cloaks as well. Those are of the religious order. Black and red are the royal guards."_ _

__Kira nodded. "Beige is military, gray are regular workers. Brown?"_ _

__"Servants of the palace. They represent many different responsibilities. She finished the last of her wine and stood. She put two coins on the table. "Here in Nodgarin anyway. There is some variation in other cities. Remember to cover before we go outside."_ _

__Kira nodded and followed her out the door—covered, of course. Tarlingen took her back to the train station—for lack of a better term. "We shall go to another city. One where many medicines are manufactured. We shall get samples of all of them."_ _

__

* * *

__  
_ _

Captain Sisko knew he should go home for dinner, but he was having a hard time leaving his desk. He kept seeing Kira and Julian's deaths in his mind. Kira deserved to die in battle. Julian, well, he should have grown old and died in peace. Neither deserved what they got. There was a chime at his door. "Come," was all he said. He didn't even look up to see who it was. 

"How are you doing, Benjamin?" 

Ezri. "I could ask you the same thing, Old Man." 

"It hurts," she admitted, coming farther into the room. The door closed behind her and she sat down on the couch. "I know it will pass. It's a familiar hurt, but it feels like it will last forever." 

Sisko left his desk to join her there. "I've lost a lot of people since this war began, and before. Only Jennifer has hurt more." 

"It's not just that they're gone," she added. "It's how. Especially for Julian. Did you know Heiler had done that to him, extruded a thin 'worm" of herself into his chest, wrapped around his heart and squeezed?" 

"I think this one did more than that." 

Ezri went on. "Kira killed Heiler in 1943. How could they possible know to do that now? We destroyed the rest of the changelings on their ship when they arrived in that year. She had no contact with the Link. How could they know?" 

Sisko shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe Kira told Odo at some point and when he linked—" 

"Maybe," she said. "Either way, it was just cruel. They could have just shot him like they did Kira." 

"They also made Odo a solid," Sisko offered. "They have a cruel streak." 

"I wish I hadn't seen it." She wiped a tear from her cheek. "But I'm also glad I did. He couldn't know it but maybe, if somehow he could, he might not have felt alone." 

Sisko put his arm around her. She was the Old Man he'd known through three hosts now, but she was also a young woman who never bargained on being joined. "He wasn't. Kira wanted to go with him. To be there for him as a friend. She did that. She was there, right to the end." 

"I miss him," she said as she started to cry for real. "I miss her, too, but I miss him!" 

"Me, too." He squeezed her shoulder. "At least Kira went quick. Still neither one deserved that." Sisko felt his own cheek become wet. After they had both cried a bit, Sisko stood and offered her his hand. "Jake is making dinner tonight," he said. "Why don't you come, too?" 

Ezri nodded and took his hand. 

* * *

When Kira finally returned, both she and Liytner Nardek were carrying crates. Crates of medicines, mainly antivirals used to fight other diseases. More materials to add to the search for a cure or vaccine. 

Tarlingen turned to leave but Bashir caught her arm. "Forgive me, could you a stay a while? I have some questions about the day the enemy attacked your leader." 

"Of course," she replied as she shut the door. 

"Please, sit," Bashir suggested. She did so. "You were in the room when it happened. You killed the shapeshifter with your finrittor." 

"Yes," she replied. Then she pulled a device from her cloak. "It is a directed energy weapon, not unlike your phaser." She put it away. 

"The changeling had moved up to the leader's face," he said, motioning with his one hand. "When you killed it, the ash had come down, in the air. What did you do then?" 

"First, the liquid splattered outward, then it turned to ash that fell and floated in the air. I was not standing near when I fired. I stepped back more. The Leader was coughing. I called for her healers. They came to her aid." 

"Right away?" Bashir asked. "While the ash was still in the air?" 

"Some," Tarlingen replied. "Most was on the floor. The Leader was still coughing. More ash came from her." 

But was she exposed? "You were covered?" 

"All are covered in that room. Even the healers, though, doubtless they uncovered when they saw her in distress and rushed her to her living quarters." 

Bashir was starting to get the fuller picture. "These were the two healers who contracted the illness?" 

"Yes," she answered. "More healers were brought in after the Leader became ill." 

"And they worked closely with the first healers?" 

"Of course. They did not become ill for some glif after. All were sequestered at that point." 

"So they are in quarantine now?" Bashir asked. "Are any of the others ill?" 

"Not as yet. I am sure they would wish to aid you in your efforts. I can put you in contact with them." 

That surprised Bashir, and he wondered why they that hadn't been brought up yet. "Please do." 

Tarlingen stood and moved to the computer. She pressed a few controls and an image appeared. It was a room with just under a dozen Gidari men and women. One moved closer to the camera. "Yes, Liytner? May we be of service?" 

"Yes," she replied. She indicated him standing beside and behind her. "Healer Bashir welcomes your input. Are all of you still well?" 

"One of our number was removed one glif ago." 

"That is regrettable. You have data from that individual?" 

Bashir decided he had to interrupt. "That can't happen." 

"Excuse me?" the man said. 

"Removing," Bashir replied. "I assume that means killing. It needs to stop. They can be quarantined in a second room perhaps." He took a deep breath. "We will need to test any possible remedy before giving it to the leader." 

"I will make that known," Tarlingen replied. She turned back to the healer. "Notify me of any sick individuals. We will find them another place." 

"Yes, Liytner," the healer replied. "And we do have data. We have added this data to the data collected from the first two healers. I see that he is Honored." 

"Also regrettable," Tarlingen commented. "Thus our time is limited. Someone must be ready to answer his calls at any hour." 

"It will be so, Liytner. We who remain stand ready to aid him in the achievement of his Purpose." 

"Good evening," Tarlingen said, and Bashir realized she was ending the conversation. 

"Good evening, Liytner," the man replied and the view of the room winked out. Tarlingen pushed a few more controls and a shortcut of sorts appeared on the screen so that he could call them later. 

She turned back to him, still leaning against the counter. "Do you have any more questions?" 

"A few," Bashir told her. "Is this the same cloak you were wearing that day?" 

"No. That and all I was wearing were destroyed. I was unclothed upon leaving the Room." 

Bashir looked over what part of her skin he could see. "I see no lesions on your face. Are there any on the rest of your body?" 

"No, I was tested, when the first healers became ill. But you may test again, if you wish." 

"Please." He pulled his sample container close and pulled a swab. "Open your mouth." She complied and he took a sample of her saliva. He had her breathe into the tube and took a quick sample of blood from her neck. It was not the usual location but she apparently hadn't wanted to pull back the sleeves of her cloak. He moved behind her to load the samples into the computer for analysis. It only took a few seconds for the computer to render its verdict: negative for the virus. 

"No virus found," he told her. 

"That is reassuring," she stepped away from the counter. 

"I don't think the leader infected the healers," Bashir told her. "Not directly. Only perhaps when she was coughing the ash. The virus was in the changeling and it was in the ash of that changeling. That's how your leader was infected. And the ash in the air and coming from her throat is what infected the healers. However, that's when things changed." He pulled up the results of the leader's samples on one side of the screen and those of the now three healers on the other. 

"It was in the healers' lungs. It is not in the leader's lungs. She cannot transmit the virus from coughing or breathing. The healers, however, likely infected all the other healers because it was in their lungs. It became airborne. It is in both the blood of the leader and the healers. It is also in the mucous leaking from the leader's lesions. Only contact with that mucous or blood can transmit the virus from her. The healers, though, if they'd gone home to their families...." 

Tarlingen nodded but didn't say anything for a moment. "But it is in the leader's blood. That is helpful to know." She turned to leave again but stopped. "I am relieved I am not infected. It was a trying day when the Enemy came here." 

Isn't it always? he thought. "I'm sure it was. It is good that the other healers are sequestered. They were not in physical contact with anyone else?" 

"No," she turned back to him. "And the Room was santized, every inch, as you say, every weapon, from ceiling to floor." 

Good to know, otherwise he and Kira might have been vectors for the virus to spread. "How long have they been quarantined in there?" 

"Two days. Have you any more questions? I would take my meal and rest." 

Bashir shook his head. "No more questions. You've been very helpful. Thank you again." 

"It is my duty to aid you. No thanks are necessary." Then she turned and left. 

Kira had been sitting, watching the whole time. "Should we check your blood, just to be safe?" 

"Don't have any," he reminded her. "But I checked the other things as well. It's specific to the Gidari. We can't catch it. But if we were to visit those other healers in person, we could carry it away with us nonetheless. The changeling hadn't known the leader would be different. But those healers, they would have been the vector by which it spread. They take it home with them, infect their families. Their families go about their business, infecting others. It would have spread exponentially from there. 

"But they haven't been to see their families. and they'd been 'removed' up to now if they showed any infection. This virus is effectively finished on Gidar. Unless the leader's virus mutates, she cannot infect anyone without swapping blood or licking her mucous." 

"Won't they have to swap some blood to put that symbiont into someone else?" she asked. 

Bashir sat down beside her. "Yes, but surely they'd do so in a sterile environment under anesthesia and careful sanitization procedures." 

Kira's eyebrows raised. "You'd hope. But the Gidari don't strike me as the do-it-in-surgery type. What they did to Tsingras wasn't sterile. He was in his own bed." 

* * *

Kira helped by opening and sorting all the medicines while he quizzed the healers in their quarantine room. He let them sleep after an hour or two, and Kira sat back and watched him try combination after combination. She literally had nothing better to do. 

"I might have made friends with Liytner Tarlingen today," she said to make conversation. 

"Really?" He didn't turn away from the computer. 

"I found out that the captain of the _Gindarin_ is her older brother. And that Liytners are the closest advisors to the leader. She shared her lunch with me." 

He turned his head to look at her. "You ate? Did you get hungry?" 

"No, I just tasted, some meat, some vegetables," she told him, "and wine made from that flower that slaps you when you try to pick it." Bashir eyed some of the fruits and vegetables from the market. "I wouldn't know which could be eaten raw," she added. "Just in case you're curious." 

"Mildly," he admitted. He sat down beside her. "But I'm fairly certain there's a tear in my esophagus. Not sure where a bite would end up." 

That wasn't where she wanted the discussion to go. But she didn't shy away from it. If he needed to talk about what happened, she'd listen. "You scanned yourself." 

"I was curious," he replied, so softly he'd almost whispered it. "I knew what it felt like. But I wasn't sure. Nerves are different in there." 

"What's the verdict?" 

"Heart's a lost cause," he told her. "Although he damaged my left lung and plenty of smaller structures along the way: blood vessels, muscles, my diaphram, ribs and skin. I think I'm only able to breathe precisely because I don't need to." 

That got her curious. "What about me?" 

He grabbed his medical tricorder and gave her a scan. "Right lung and descending aorta. I could fix that in thirty minutes in the Infirmary back home." 

That gave her an idea. "What about here?" 

He turned to face her. "Here? You'd need a full complement of blood, too. I could fix the damage but you'd still be dead." 

She met his gaze. "Why?" She didn't wait for him to answer. "I mean, if the damage was fixed and I got the blood. Would I still be dead then? Hypothetically?" 

"Hypothetically. . . ." He stood and walked a few steps. He was thinking. "No, I can't see why you would be." 

She stood up, too, and stood in front of him. "Julian, we can get the blood when we get back to Deep Space Nine." She touched his arm. "Maybe we don't have to be dead." 


	5. Chapter Four

****

**Star Trek: Deep Space Nine  
The Honored **  
by Gabrelle Lawson  
****

**Chapter Four**

****  
** **

Maybe they don't have to be dead. Kira had said it and that thought rushed through Bashir's mind. Could it be true? But then the thought was dashed. For him, anyway. There was just too much damage. He sighed and looked down. "I can heal you, Nerys. But I can't heal myself." 

"Look at me," she said. "They know we've died. They'll probably have already replaced us. There'll be a new doctor when we get back there. You can get a transplant, or an artificial heart. You can be healed. It will just take more work.' She turned around and started to take off her cloak. "Start with me. It can't hurt to try. We're already dead if it doesn't work." 

Yes, he could save her. If he healed her now and she was able to return to DS Nine in time to get a massive transfusion to fill her full of Bajoran blood, maybe she would survive. He could do that. She dropped the top of the cloak and offered her back to him. He opened the crates he'd brought for the outpost and arranged others so they both could sit, her in front and him behind. He leaned her over to get better light. Then he got to work. Ordinarily he would have offered anesthesia, but he'd already learned they didn't feel any pain. Only sensation. 

She never even flinched. It took longer. He didn't have access to everthing he would have had in his Infirmary. Or the Infirmary. It wasn't his anymore. But in less than one hour, he was using the dermal regenerator to heal and seal the skin where she'd been shot. With the exception of skin color, which was different due to the substance that had replaced her blood, she looked just as alive as before she was shot. 

As he had healed her aorta, he'd had to clean up some of that substance. He thought about having the computer analyze it. But the Gidari might take exception to that. They hadn't seen him heal Kira's wounds, but it wasn't a stretch to think they would monitor his computer usage. The best he could do was scan it with the tricorder which only read it as an unknown compound. 

Once he was done, she worked herself back into the cloak. "So what needs to be done for you?" 

"Too much," was his quick answer. "Even with a full infirmary, it would take hours." 

She turned back to him and grabbed both of his arms. "Don't think about it as you. Pretend it's someone else. What would you do first? What would you need?" 

It wasn't that easy. He knew that they were discussing him, but he tried to play along. "I'd need a stasis unit to put him in while I got everything else prepared. This stuff will only last a week from when they gave it to us. We're already down two days and we still need to work out how we're getting back to DS Nine. We might not have much of it left." 

"Good thinking," she told him. She let go of his arms to pick up a PADD. "So he's in stasis. What will you need to prepare?" 

"I'd want a pulmonary support unit," he said. "This stuff is providing that now. I'd need to help his breath and circulation as it dissipated once he's out of stasis." 

"Good, what else?" 

So he began to list all the equipment, instruments, and medications he'd want at the ready before the patient was removed from stasis for surgery. She wrote everything on the PADD, but how would they get that PADD off the planet? Would it fit in one of their pockets? 

Getting back into the hypothetical, he then laid out exactly what he'd do to heal 'the patient' given that short lifespan once removed from stasis. The damaged parts of his chest would need to be rebuilt. Every artery and vein, every muscle, every nerve. Tears in the lungs, esophagus, peritoneum, and diaphram would have to be mended. 

And, of course, the patient's heart would need to be replaced, most likely by a parthenogenic implant. Then his ribs would need metorapan treatments and his skin the dermal regenerator. And a massive transfusion of human blood. 

The computer beeped and Bashir turned his attention there. One of the medicines, when mixed with the oil from the leaf of the mindelin plant, would have some effect against the virus. Bashir looked at the simulation. A five cc dose of the mixture was projected to slow the replication of the virus by half in an average male Gidari. That could help the healers in quarantine who were likely exposed. It wouldn't kill the virus within them, but it might slow the progress of the disease. And it still didn't meant it would do anything to the virus in Nailati. He instructed the computer to synthesize five cc's and then run a simulation directly against the leader's virus, given her physiology. A small vial materialized in the Gidari's version of a replicator. 

"Is that a cure?" Kira asked, coming up beside him. 

"No," he told her. "But it may retard the replication of the virus. It's a start." 

"So someone exposed might take longer to get sick?" 

"Exactly. But taking longer might not matter much. The leader is the one they want to cure, and she already has the disease, the lesions. It could possible delay the formation of lesions in the healers in quarantine though. And that may help them live longer." 

"So you're going to ask one of them to take it?" The way her nose crinkled more told him she didn't like the idea. 

"Ordinarily, I'd have hundreds of steps before giving it to a living being to test," he admitted. "But we don't have that kind of time, and neither do those healers. Besides, if I fail to find a cure, they'll be killed anyway. I'm certain one of them will volunteer." 

Kira nodded. "They are devoted to the leader. You're probably right. You should contact them." 

Bashir checked the chronometer. It was very early in the morning. The equivalent of 0315. He really didn't want to wake them, but they had said any hour. And he didn't have a lot of time left. He punched the shortcut, and, a few minutes later, a sleepy Gidari woman answered the call. 

"Healer," she said. "How may I be of service?" 

"I need you to take blood samples of everyone in that room with you. Then I need one person to test this compound." He sent the formula to her. "The computer thinks it can slow the virus's replication rate." 

Her wide eyes widened. She was now fully awake. "I will have it done. I will contact you again." The scene winked out. 

In less than five minutes, she called back. "As I had theorized, all of us have some level of the virus in our lungs and blood. It was airborne, wasn't it?" 

"I'm afraid so," Bashir told her. "But not from the leader. From the first two healers." 

"Understood," she replied. "We have chosen two with the highest concentrations. We will inject one with the compound. Then we will compare viral replication six times per Glif. We will report back at the end of that Glif." 

It was brutal but effective. The Gidari without the drug should progress faster. "Agreed." 

"I will update the file accordingly," she said. "Patient One will get the drug. Patiient two will be the control." 

"Understood," he said. At least he didn't have to know their names or even which scientist was which number. She might have even been one or two. "Thank you." 

"Such appreciation is unnecessary," she answered. "Our lives now are only to serve you in your Purpose." The image again winked out. 

"They take this purpose thing very seriously," Kira said. 

"It must be serious," Bashir replied, "if it's worth bringing someone back from the dead." 

* * *

Captain Benjamin Sisko met the new doctor this time. He remembered Jadzia had welcomed Julian aboard. Ezri remembered, too, and just couldn't bring herself to recreate that with someone else. Dr. Ifeanyi Mfuma had graduated third in his class and had served previously on the _USS Thomas Paine,_ a New Orleans class vessel under Captain Rixx. 

Several other crewmembers of the _Thomas Paine_ were taking R and R on the station, but one young medical officer noticed Sisko and approached. "Doctor Ifeanyi Mfuma, reporting for duty, sir!" 

"At ease, Doctor," Sisko told him, then offered his hand. "It's under sad conditions that we welcome you but we welcome you all the same." 

"Thank you, sir," the young man said, relaxing and shaking the hand that was offered. "Dr. Bashir did amazing work, and I'm certain he's missed here. I hope to be a worthy stand-in." 

"Well, Dr. Tungaturthi gave you a stunning recommendation. I'm sure you'll do her proud." Sisko held out a hand. "I'll introduce you to the Infirmary staff." 

"I'd like that," he replied. "Thank you." 

Mfuma was shorter than Julian, and stockily built, but he had a gentle face and Tungaturthi had praised his excellent bedside manner. Julian had had that in spades. Sisko led him to a turbolift and directed it to the Promenade. The shops and restaurants on the Promenade were doing a lively business. Many of the patrons were allied troops enjoying some downtime. 

The Infirmary was packed. All the other physicians, nurses, and medtechs were on hand to greet the new Chief Medical Officer. Sisko introduced him to Nurse Jabara and then excused himself. She could handle the rest of the introductions. She's already been notified of his living assignment and would take him there after the formalities were over. 

Sisko found it hard to walk away from that place, knowing someone else was in Julian's post. But it had to be done, just as it had with Jaresh in Ops. He was finding his way up there, and Mfuma would find his way down here. 

As he walked the Promenade, he remembered the last time Bashir had been deemed dead. Kira had kept his post open by insisting on a rotation of guest doctors for a full six months. Somehow she had known in her gut. And when the _Enterprise_ had found him in that cave, her gut had been proven right. But now they were both gone, and their posts had needed to be filled. There would be no miraculous return this time. 

* * *

Tarlingen came again in the morning. Kira let her in. "I was told of your progress this morning," the Liytner said, speaking to Julian. 

"It's a start," Bashir told her. "It has only slowed the replication of the virus. Patient Two had to be moved to isolation. Patient One has still not developed the disease." 

"Even a start is progress," she told him. She turned to Kira. "Where shall we go today?" 

"Is there any possibility of collecting blood and tissue samples of other animals out there?" Bashir asked. 

Tarlingen tilted her head slightly. "We might have to engage the services of biologists and trackers. But if it will aid you in your Purpose, it will be done." 

"Sounds fun," Kira said. "As long as I don't get eaten." She was getting used to the path into and out of the palace. It was good practice for the day she hoped they'd leave unnoticed. She was also making note each day when she returned of any landmarks they'd need, how to access the 'train,' the animals and dangers they may encounter. 

She noticed today that she could take deeper breaths. Probably because Julian had repaired her lung. She wished he could talk her through healing some of his own damage. But she didn't think she could actually do it even if he would. And he likely didn't have all the necessary equipment anyway. Maybe if they managed to book passage on a ship in Nardinosti, she could at least send a message ahead to DS Nine so they could be ready for Julian when they arrived. She wanted to live and felt more confident that she would after his work the night before. But she wanted him to live, too. 

This time, they took the train in the direction of Nardinosti but changed lines a few miles out. They were now headed south. Tarlingen used a device pulled from her cloak and talked to someone as they went. Kira ignored that and watched the countryside out the window. She saw more of the birds, the darglin, as Tarlingen had called them. They were not close but not as far as they were from mountain two days ago. And this time they were resting in the treetops. They were large, maybe as tall as a man. Their wingspan had to be twice that at least. Their tail plumage hang low, almost to the ground. And then they were out of sight. 

As they rode, Kira decided to probe Tarlingen a bit more. "If Bashir hadn't died, how would this have worked?" 

"We had need of him," Tarlingen told her. "We would have taken him. We'd have more time for him to work to find a cure." 

"Would you have returned him after he found it?" Kira asked. She was afraid of the answer but was determined not to let herself show any anger at what the liaison might say. 

"Yes," she replied. 

Kira was surprised but tried not to show it. "After all he would have seen?" 

"He wouldn't have seen as much." Tarlingen did not seem troubled by this line of questioning. She didn't change her posture or expression at all. "He would have had to wear certain gear to survive here. We could control what he would have seen through such gear. He would, however still have needed to see our Leader. Those memories would have been removed before his return." 

Kira wondered how they could do that, but decided it wasn't important. "So now that we're Honored, what happens when our time runs out?" 

Tarlingen's face softened slightly. "There is a sacred place, high on the mountain, full of trees with a small, silvery lake in the center. We will take you there. You will lie down and fall asleep. Your Life will contiue its journey to the Creator." 

The next part was delicate. Kira didn't want to give away too much. But she didn't want to just appear to accept it either. "What if I don't want that? Why can't we go back, get healed, and be alive again?" 

Now Tarlingen's expression changed. He eyes widened and Kira realized she was surprised. She opened her mouth to speak then closed it again. Finally she said, "No Honored has ever asked that question." 

Kira decided to press her a bit more. "Because a Gidari wouldn't think of questioning it? It's part of your religion, your culture. But I'm Bajoran. I have fought most of my life to live free and to help my people live free. I don't want to just lay down and die now." 

"The Healer feels the same?" Tarlingen asked. "He is not Bajoran." 

"No, but he's human," she told her. "That fight to survive is instinct to them. He's survived so many things already. He was prisoner of the enemy, twice. He escaped both times. Helped others escape. He's survived a serial killer's poison, a Lethian's telepathic attack, cyanide gas, starvation, countless battles in our war. He could have given up dozens of times. But he always managed to keep going, keep trying." 

"And now that he has lost his last trial?" Tarlingen replied. "Does he still wish to fight to survive?" 

"He has his doubts," Kira admitted. "The changeling tore him up inside. He has a hole through his chest the size of my fist." She made a fist for the visual. "He's not sure he can be healed. But if he can be, he would try." 

Tarlingen softened again. "Gidari do not see death as something to fear or fight against," she explained. "We do not wish for it nor choose to hasten it. But it is the end of all living things. It cannot be escaped. So we acknowledge it and accept it as inevitable." 

Kira thought of those healers in quarantine who didn't cry in fear of the disease they were all exposed to, of the leader who would willingly die if it meant keeping her people safe. It fit the evidence. The train came to a stop and Tarlingen stood. "We are here." 

* * *

The mindelin compound had given him a place to start. So he tried different concentrations and when that didn't pan out, he tried various additives that might add potency. The computer worked with every sample he'd taken or been given. The healers still alive gave suggestions and fed the computer other compounds to try as well. Bashir dug through their drugs database looking for anything that might be promising and threw that into the mix. The computer didn't complain. It just churned and churned. 

Four hours after Kira had left, the computer beeped again. This time it was a compound made from a different antiviral, the oil of the sinfula fruit, and enzyme found in haftha venom, and a vitamin similar to Vitamin C on Earth. It seemd to cause the virus to shrivel and dry out. He sent the formula to the healer's room and pressed the shortcut to call them. 

Patient Six answered the call. He'd become familar with their numbering system. They hadn't wanted him to feel any unnecessary discomfort in using them for tests. It helped, but he still kenw they were people, individual people with families and dreams and plans. "I have another drug to try. It should be given to Patients Two and Three." Patient Two had previously developed the disease. Patient One still had not, but Bashir didn't want to complicate things by mixing two trial drugs. 

"It shall be done," Six said. "We will call you with the results." 

Now all he could do was wait. Still he kept looking for other compounds, other possibilities that would kill the virus outright or supercharge the Gidari immune system to fight it. 

* * *

Biologists apparently wore orange cloaks in this town. Tarlingen had enlisted two. After the requisite bows, Tarlingen and Kira had traded their black and purple cloaks for orange. The four of them then set out in an orange and yellow, open-topped antigravity skimmer across the countryside. Kira had no idea where they were going but just went along with it. They soon left the wooded areas behind and entered a low plain with tall grass. There were large four-legged animals with long tails and equally long necks at the ends of which were small heads with bulging black eyes. Kira looked around. Those necks should be reaching treetops, but there were only short, scrubby trees in the vacinity. As Kira watched, one of them stuck its head into the ground until half its neck was gone. Then a few minutes later, the head came back up, chewing on a brown plant of some kind. 

The skimmer was slient as one of the biologists maneuvered it close to where some smaller ones were resting while two larger ones kept watch. The skimmer stopped ten meters from the group. The babies slept coiled into little balls. They're eyes didn't look to bulge out the way adults' eyes did, but they were closed and not open. 

The other biologist lifted a rifle of sorts with two barrels. He put it to his shoulder and sighted one of the watchers. He fired and two projectiles shot out with no more than a puff of air to be heard. Filaments of silvery string stretched out with the projectiles which landed in the target's thigh. It didn't show much reaction, except that it began to swing its long neck to see what had happened. The biologist touched his weapon, and, with a hiss, the filaments went taught again, pulling the projectiles free of the beast until they were once again in the barrels of the gun. The beast simply blinked at its rather miniscule wounds and gave them a few licks. The babies slept on unaware. 

As the driver backed away, the shooter pulled the projectiles from the rifle then set it aside. The projectiles looked like thin syringes. He pulled the needles from them and put them in a cylinder of clear solution. He labeled the test tubes and handed them to Tarlingen. Tarlingen handed them to Kira for her basket. Kira could see that one held a brown liquid and the other the yellowish skin of the beast with a bit of pink muscle attached. Blood and tissue samples, very efficiently drawn. 

This was repeated whenever they came upon a different species of animal. As they headed back toward Nodgarin and the woodlands, they stopped to pick up their cloaks but did not change into them. They simply stowed them in the skimmer and drove on. 

They crossed the train tracks and headed for the trees were Kira had seen the darglin. There were more birds now, and they were noisy. Kira and the others left the skimmer behind as the biologists led them on foot toward the copse of trees. They crouched low and stepped softly. This time, the other biologist held the rifle. He took aim at the back of one large bird. She heard the puff of air as he pulled the trigger. The bird screamed and unfolded its wings. The rest of the flock was disturbed and began to scatter. The projectiles came back as the birds leapt into the air. Tarlingen pushed Kira to the ground. A moment later, she felt the wind as the sticken darglin charged them. A few feathers fell beside her. She waited until it was safe and Tarlingen's hand on her back was gone, then she quickly grabbed the feathers. The biologist handed her the tubes this time. She held them until after they got back to the skimmer and put the samples and the feathers in her basket. 

Tarlingen put their cloaks in a bag then threw the bag over her shoulder. "Mindglin, instruct the Honored in the use of the weapon." Then she tucked the box of unused projectiles and the cylinder of used needles into the bag she carried. 

Mindglin handed the rifle to Kira. He had two new projectiles. "Put them in the barrels and press this lever," he said, pointing to the small lever between the two barrels near their tips. Kira did as he instructed, putting them in, needle out, and pressing the lever. "You are now ready to fire. Target the thigh of the animal if you can. These are for mid-size animals. There are smaller ones in the box. Once the animal is hit, count three then press the button here to retreive them." He touched a button near where her left hand was holding the gun. "Press the lever again, and you may remove the projectiles." 

"I will label them," Tarlingen said. "You fought for the independence of Bajor from Cardassia. I trust you have good aim." She pulled a small black stick from her cloak and gave it a shake. The stick expanded until she was holding a spear. "I will make sure you remain undamaged." The spear shrank again to a stick. 

The biologists gave their bows and left in the skimmer while Tarlingen led Kira, with the rifle and her basket back toward the train tracks. Tarlingen then removed something else from her cloak and Kira wondered if every cloak had all these devices in them, or if Tarlingen managed to swap them all when she changed back in town. 

Kira saw a train approaching in the distance. Tarlingen held her hand up. The device she held flashed toward the train. The train flashed a light back in response. "It will stop for us," she said, putting away the beacon. "We will go back to the mountain." 

* * *

The compound had not helped Patient Two. As the disease had already taken hold, the compound was ineffective. Patient Three had a decrease in the amount of virus in her system. But she developed her first lesion anyway. Patient Three now had the disease. 

Bashir and the computer kept looking. Kira didn't return until late in the evening. Tarlingen helped her bring in the samples they'd collected and then excused herself for sleep. 

Kira waited until she had left and the door had closed all the way. "Well, I had an exciting day," she said. "I wish you could have seen all the animals we tested out there." 

Bashir sighed. "Two of the healers now have the disease. Every time something shows promising, it just isn't enough." 

Kira frowned and put down her basket on the counter. "I'm sorry to hear that. But did you really think you could solve this in a matter of days?" 

Julian sighed again and sat down on one of the crates still stacked against the wall. "Perhaps not but I'd like to at least make significant progress. Maybe save one of the healers' lives or offer a vaccine so no matter how they transfer the symbiont, it won't spread." He shook his head. "And I can't help but want to keep Nailati from sacrificing herself. Besides, this could be my last week of life. I'd like to accomplish something." 

Kira sat beside him but turned to face him. "No more talk of that," she ordered. "Neither one of us are going to die here. We are going to get back to DS Nine and get healed enough to stay alive, and you will go on to accomplish a hell of a lot more in your life." 

He wanted to believe that, but the odds were longer even now than they had been last night. They had one less day. She must have sensed his pessimism. "I spoke to Tarlingen today of our desire to not die quietly in the woods." 

Bashir snapped his gaze to her face. "You told her? Does she know I healed you?" 

Kira held up a hand to back him off. "No, I just told her it's not what a Bajoran freedom fighter or a human would want. I told her all you survived so far, how hard you have fought to stay alive." 

"What did she say to that?" 

Kira stood and went to the basket of samples. "That Gidari don't fear death. It's just part of nature. They would never think to try and live after being Honored." She started putting vials on the counter. "She wasn't angry or dismissive, Julian. She didn't say we shouldn't want it or that she'd stop us. There's a possibility there." 

Bashir wanted to latch on to that possibility but the odds were still against them. They had just a few days left to get to the port, stow away or book passage on a ship back to DS Nine or another Federation facility, have a very complicated surgery in his case, and receive full blood transfusions. It was just too much to really hold out hope for. He started logging each of the samples. Behind him, Kira placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't give up on me yet, Julian." 


	6. Chapter Five

****

**Star Trek: Deep Space Nine  
The Honored **  
by Gabrelle Lawson  
****

**Chapter Five**

****  
** **

In frustration, Kira took out the PADD and updated her notes. They'd have three days if they could leave tonight. She didn't see that happening, though. They couldn't go anywhere unnoticed in their purple cloaks. Only the Honored wore them. She had an orange one from her time with the trackers, but Bashir didn't. So step one was getting brown or gray cloaks, something that would help them blend in. Of course, they were also the only ones who had to keep their hoods on outside, so maybe the color still wouldn't be enough. They'd need a diversion, something that would keep anyone from looking their way or noticing they were covered. 

If that materialized, they could either risk the train or steal one of the skimmers and make their way back to Nardinosti. They couldn't risk lingering in the gates, either. Those gates changed Gidari physiology so they could breathe the same air as the majority of their visitors. So they'd need another distraction there. Then they'd need to find a friendly captain to let them aboard their ship before the Gidari figured out where they'd gone. Kira didn't relish getting her memories removed or being hauled back to that sacred spot on the mountain. In other words, it was going to take a hell of a lot of luck. 

"Nerys!" Julian exclaimed. He turned, holding up one of the feathers she'd collected after the darglin charge. "What animal had these feathers?" 

"Darglin," she replied, "very large, very beautiful, predatory birds. Why?" 

"Because they have antibodies that fight the virus." He smiled, then turned back to the computer. "Ah ha! The blood has even more. It works. It's immune." 

"How? That virus hadn't been on this planet before," she countered, joining him at the computer. 

"Sheer luck, I guess," was his answer. "But how do we use it in a Gidari humanoid body?" He began to think out loud. "If I can separate out the antibodies and mix it with the right compound, and find a good adjuvant, we might have a good solution to test. Computer trial first." 

He went silent. Kira watched the screen. The virus was indicated in red. The darglin antibodies were green. The first compound he tested came in as white. When it mixed with mostly blue Gidari blood, something changed. The virus stopped replicating and the green antibodies disintegrated. Bashir sighed beside her but then there was another change. Some of the cells in the blue blood turned into purple specks which engulfed the red virus. "What just happened?" she asked. 

"It would appear that the darglin antibodies stimulated immune cells in the humanoid blood. They mutated and attacked the virus. Kira, this could be a cure, or at least a vaccine." 

A red line flashed on the screen. "What's that?" 

Bashir clicked it and waited for the translation. He sighed again. "There's not a large enough sample. Maybe for one patient." 

"How much more do you need?" Kira asked. 

He looked at her. "How big are those birds?" 

"Maybe your height," she told him. "There has to be a lot of blood in one of those." 

Bashir tapped his fingers on the counter. "It may not come to that. Vaccine first. If I give it to one of the healers, perhaps their new antibodies could benefit others." 

"I'd say that's worth waking them up," Kira suggested. 

Bashir punched the shortcut. An older Gidari man answered. "How may we assist you, Healer?" 

"I need you to isolate the patient with the least concentration of the virus. I'll have a compound sent over. They are to receive the whole dose. A blood sample should be taken before and at intervals after." He turned to Kira. "Go find us a guard or someone who can act as courier." 

Kira nodded and left the room. She had only been out once without Tarlingen at this point. But this time she didn't see anyone to ask. Still, she knew one place that always had someone on guard. The throne room. She remembered the way. 

Two men in red and black robes stood before like statues, just outside the oversized doors. Until she approached. Then they crossed their spears in front of her. "What business, Honored?" the one on the right asked. 

"I need someone to get a possible vaccine to the healers in isolation," she said. 

The spears fell to the ground and both the guards bowed to her. She didn't have time for that, but she knew they'd stay that way until she returned the bow. So she did and quickly stood back up again. 

The guard on the left pulled what she assumed was a communications device from his cloak and spoke into it. "Return to the Healer," the one on the right said. "We have called for a courier." 

Kira nodded and went back to Julian. "Someone's coming," she told him. They didn't have to wait long. There was a knock on the door. 

Kira opened it and was surprised to see Tarlingen. She wasn't wearing her cloak, but a long gown, probably for sleeping. "We didn't mean it had to be you," Kira said. 

Tarlingen shook her head. Her hair was loose and shimmered in the light. "It must be," she said breathlessly. 

Bashir gasped when he saw her then composed himself. He handed her a vial. "It's a test," he told her. "I hope it works. We don't have enough for a second try at this time." 

"Understood," Tarlingen took the vial. "You have spoken to the healers? They have chosen the recipient?" 

"Yes," Bashir replied, "and moved him or her to a secondary isolation room." 

"May the Creator grant us favor," Tarlingen said. Then she turned and left. Bashir went back to the computer and the drumming on the counter. Kira sat down on the crates and waited. The chosen healer, a woman numbered Six, called in regularly. At first there was no change. Then she reported that she had developed a fever. Her samples showed still a large concentration of virus but a little less each time. And more antibodies each time. 

Another hour passed, then she called again, sounding worn and weak. "The fever is dropping," she reported. "My latest sample shows a dramatic decrease in viral concentrations with a corresponding increase in antibodies. Please, Healer, what is the formula?" 

"It may not matter," Bashir told her, "as I can't replicate it again without more samples of the required ingredient. My hope is that you will soon be free of the virus, and then your antibodies will create a new compound." 

She smiled. "Thus far, a promising result," she replied. "I will contact you again." 

Two hours after that, she called to say there was no evidence of the virus in her blood, nor in her lungs. "Yes!" Bashir exclaimed. 

"I've sent you several vials of my blood," Six said, sounding far more chipper. "Now may I know?" 

"It was the darglin," Bashir told her. "Its antibodies mutated yours into a force to destroy the virus." 

"Creator be praised," she said. "Now we see if my antibodies can teach the others' antibodies to fight it." 

"Yes," Bashir agreed. 

There was a knock at the door. Kira opened it to find a fully-cloaked Tarlingen. She entered and handed three vials to Bashir. "Excellent progress, Healer." 

Bashir nodded and moved back to the computer. Tarlingen stepped back toward the door. She reached her hand inside her cloak in front of Kira. "Here," she said, so Kira started fishing in her own cloak the same way. Tarlingen removed a small, flat, rectangular object. Kira felt in various pockets until she found it. "Say my title and name," Tarlingen said, "and you will contact me directly. No need to hunt a guard." 

"Thank you," Kira told her. Tarlingen left and Kira sat down. She put the communicator back in its pocket and went through several other pockets, trying to determine what each item was. She found the telescoping spear, which she decided would come in handy when they escaped. She also found the finrittor, though she knew it wouldn't work against a Gidari. Might work on an animal, though. Several items she couldn't identify and thought it unwise to test them in a room full of medical equipment. 

"I've isolated the antibodies," Bashir said. "Now to find the right mixture and dosage to kick start an immune response in one of the other healers." 

"Maybe the darglin could still be useful," Kira suggested. "You didn't get to test it on one of those with the full disease, or the leader." 

Bashir looked up for a moment. "If you think you could get more blood samples, it wouldn't hurt," he finally said. "But do please hurry. I feel the vaccine is within reach. The cure, though, that is harder." 

Kira felt a buzz against her chest. She felt through the pockets to find the communicator again. "Bashir is needed," Tarlingen said. 

Kira heard the urgency in Tarlingen's voice. "The leader." 

Tarlingen confirmed her guess. "He should go to her at once." Then the line went dead. 

Julian sighed. "If only I could be in two places at once." He opened a crate and pulled out some booties and a pair of gloves. Then he grabbed his medical tricorder and left. Kira went back to inventorying her pockets. She had planning to do. 

* * *

Julian understood why she'd called for him as soon as he saw her. Nailati's lesions were red and inflamed. "You've quickened." He quickly pulled the power supply from his tricorder. "Are there any devices in this room that emit EM radiation?" 

"A communications device in this table," she replied, and he could hear the tightness of her voice though she remained outwardly stoic. 

"Can you power it down?" he asked. "It will make things worse." 

"In your cloak," she added, "many things." 

Damn. He didn't know which things to remove, where to find them, or how to turn them off. "I'll only hurt you then," he told her, stepping back. 

Nailati nodded. "Will you stand before us uncloaked?" 

"I'm not wearing much underneath," he told her, "but yes." 

She pointed to another door. "Leave it in there. I will have a robe delivered for you. Your cloak will wait for you in your laboratory." 

Bashir went quickly through the door and was surprised to find himself in the throne room. No one else was present so he began the process of taking off the cloak. To say he wasn't wearing much else was an exaggeration, as he was left only with his boots and his gloves. Still, she was his patient and he, her doctor. He opened the door again and entered her living quarters. He found a brown robe just on the other side of the door. It was hooded but otherwise much simpler than the elaborate, purple cloak he'd been given. He slipped it on with ease. 

"We have powered off all other devices," she told him. "The pain is less." 

"When did you notice the change?" he asked her. 

"Not us," she replied. "Liytner Nardek noticed when she told me of your progress. The pain came later. This is the stage before death." 

She's been so direct, so he answered her directly. "Yes, I'm sorry." 

She took a deep breath but nodded. "Tell us, please, what led you to this potential vaccine?" 

"A feather," he told her. "One from a darglin. The blood was even better." 

She smiled. "Have you seen one fly?" 

He had really only been outside for the ride from Nardinosti. He hadn't seen one at all. "No, but Kira has," he told her. "She brought the samples. Blood, tissue, and feathers." 

"There is much of our world you have not seen." There was a wistfulness to her voice now. "Sometimes we step out. There is one door that is large enough. It leads to a plateau on the north side of the mountain. We can see for a great distance, but we can only make out the darglin in flight. Like fire floating through the air. They are graceful and fierce. I would like to step out and see my world again. But this will not be for me. We fear it would leave some trace of this foul poison. That will be for the next Nailati." 

"I haven't given up yet," Bashir told her, wanting to give her hope. "If we can get more darglin blood, perhaps it still could be a cure. I didn't have enough to try against the disease. Or perhaps the antibodies from the test patient--" 

She held up a hand to cut him off. "Verify the vaccine. That is all that matters now. We need only know our people will be safe. Go now, back to your laboratory. Save them." 

Bashir sighed, then bowed for her, humble as he was in the plain, brown robe. 

"You are Honored indeed, Julian Bashir," she added. "And it has been our honor to know you." 

Julian left her quarters. He threw away the booties and gloves in the receptacle outside the door and hurried back to the lab. He wasn't surprised to see Tarlingen there. It looked as if she'd just arrived. 

"Kira," she said in greeting, "Bashir, I must go now, but I've asked Mindglin to bring you four more vials of darglin blood. One of the palace workers will take you to meet him. I am needed elsewhere. Doctor, please let me know when your vaccine is successful." 

"Or a cure," he added. "I will. We'll need a courier." 

"I will send one to you." With that, she turned and hurried away. Bashir stepped fully inside and closed the door. 

Kira took in his simple brown robe. "What happened?" 

"She's quickened," he told her. He found his purple cloak neatly folded on the counter. "Who's Mindglin?" 

"Biologist," Kira replied. "He taught me how to use the gun that collected the blood and tissue samples." 

Bashir stared to strip off the robe, and Kira turned her back to him to give him some privacy. "You going to remember how to put that on?" she teased. 

"I have a very good memory," he answered. While he dressed, he thought out loud. "I can still use the darglin blood again, but I don't need to wait. I've got three vials of blood with Gidari antibodies to work with. I want to work up a compound to try with the other infected, and one of the diseased." 

"Can't hurt," Kira replied. "Do you think that robe could work outside the mountain?" 

He nearly had the cloak on. "What do you mean?" The sight of his chest was disturbing, and he was anxious to cover it. 

"The purple cloak will stand out. I've still got the orange one. Tarlingen didn't ask for it and I haven't reminded her." 

"Done," he announced. So he turned back to the computer. "I don't suppose it would. It's very simple. No pockets, no devices. I changed so the ones in my cloak wouldn't hurt her." The computer analyzed the blood sample from Patient Six and isolated the antibodies. Bashir ran simulations to determine the minimum dosage to kick start an immune reaction in another infected Gidari. And how much for a Gidari who hadn't been exposed. By the time the knock came on their door, he had a compound to try for the former. He worked up a dose. If it was successful, the three scientists who had not yet developed the disease would be cured. But the dosage had to be higher to fight the disease itself. Or maybe the darglin antibodies would be better. 

Kira answered the door. "I'm your escort, Honored," a lean man in a brown cloak told her. He didn't bother to bow. Tarlingen must have told him not to bother. 

"Let's go then." She looked back once then closed the door behind them. 

* * *

Kira noted this worker was nearly as tall as Bashir. But she couldn't think of a way to get his cloak that wouldn't cause too much trouble. He led her with a cord out of the cave and into the village. She could see Mindglin waiting in his bright orange cloak by the fountain. She hurried to him. 

He did bow, which Kira found unproductive at this late stage. She quickly returned the bow. He handed her the vials. She thanked him and turned back. The worker followed her dutifully. 

She could knock him out in the total darkness of the cavern labyrinth, but he'd report her when he woke up. She could kill him but that seemed rather aggressive, and, besides, she knew what happened to Gidari bodies after they died. The whole palace would be able to smell it. No, there was no way. He brought her all the way back to the lab. She thanked him, then went inside. 

Bashir was at the counter. "Patient Four," he said, and she knew it meant his compound had been delivered. 

"How long until we know?" Kira asked. She set the darglin vials on the counter. 

"Patient Six took several hours, but she had the darglin compound. It had to mutate her antibodies. These were antibodies which had already been changed to fight the virus. It could be faster." He lifted one of the vials. "Two have the disease, besides the leader," he said. "So do I try the darglin or the Gidari antibodies?" 

Kira had no idea. She was a fighter, and administrator. Not a doctor or scientist. "Which one do you think will work better?" 

Julian ran simultaneous simulations. The darglin antibodies had some initial success but were, in the end, beaten back by the mutated virus. The Gidari compound fared worse, if she understood what she was seeing. The host's immune system overwhelmed the new antibodies. "Neither." He slammed his hand down on the counter. 

Kira put a hand on his shoulder. She leaned into it. "Then which will make the best vaccine?" 

He sighed and shook his head. "We know the darglin works on someone who's been infected. But without the virus to attack, what effect would it have in a healthy Gidari body? But Gidari antibodies which are already trained to attack *this** virus, that will be the vaccine. But the first step is seeing if that immunity is transferable." 

"So we wait," Kira said. "Let's work on something else." 

"What else is there?" 

She turned him away from the computer. "Well, for starters, there's how we get you a different cloak." She sat him down on one of the crates then sat facing him. "I actually thought about attacking that worker in the tunnels." 

Bashir chuckled. "I don't think that would have gone over well." 

Kira laughed, too. "Which is why I didn't. So, I got the orange one. How do we find you a different color?" 

"Say we managed it," he offered, "then what? We'll still be the only ones hooded out there." 

"Okay, so there's that, too," she admitted. "I know the other exit, higher on the mountain. We could stick to the wilds, at least part of the way. It will be slow and there are some dangerous beasts out there, but fewer people would see us." 

"And maybe we wouldn't be so conspicuous further out?" 

Kira liked that idea. "Just two covered people going about their business." 

"Or at least manage to get on the train?" But then he shook his head. "We'd have to stay covered there. Without the cloaks, we'd just be aliens. And that would cause a stir." 

The computer beeped so he stood and returned to it. "Honored," a man's voice said. "All indications are that I will be free of the virus in two hours. You should proceed with the next stage of testing. I've sent a volunteer to you." 

"Not until we know it's killed all your virus," Bashir protested. 

"There's not time for that," the man replied, though he didn't sound rushed. "We must confirm that an uninfected person can fight off the infection when exposed." 

There was a knock at the door. Kira went to open it. This time, it was a woman in brown. "Honored," she said. "I've been told not to bow as time is pressing." 

"That's fine," Kira told her. "Come in." 

Bashir protested, "It's too early." 

"He's right, Doctor," Kira countered, "we don't have time. Give her the compound." 

Bashir's jaw was set hard. "It may not work and you'll be infected." 

"I have faith in your Purpose, Honored," she said. She pulled back her sleeve to bare the blue skin of her arm. 

He reluctantly pressed a few controls and worked on the computer for maybe fifteen more minutes. Kira suggested the woman sit while she waited. Finally he took a vial from the replicator. He popped it into a hypospray. "You're sure?" he asked. She stood and nodded, so he pressed it to her arm. 

"Thank you, Honored," she said as she lowered her sleeve again. She turned and left. Bashir went to the computer and called the sick room, with its last two scientists, Patients One and Five. 

* * *

"Can I be of service," Patient One asked. 

"I've given a volunteer a potential vaccine," Bashir said. "I expected her to visit you." 

"No, Honored," the other man replied. "She has gone to the Leader." 

Why the urgency? he wondered. To rush this test and then expose her to a mutated version of the virus seemed foolhardy. Then he wondered why he was only asking himself. He was Honored, damn it, and he was going to use it. "Why the rush? Why not let each step take the time it needs to be proven? The leader's virus is different." 

"The Leader is different and she has 'quickened,'" the patient answered. "The succession is in motion. We must confirm a vaccine as quickly as possible." 

"She may have needed time for her body to work up enough of a response," he argued. "The formula could be off." 

"She is to prepare the Leader," Patient One replied. "She will not leave her side until the ceremony. She will take regular blood samples for testing. As soon as Patient Four is free of the virus, we would appreciate that compound as well." 

He nodded, but cut off the channel. This was all wrong. If the compound didn't work, that woman was going to be infected. And Nailati was going to die to save her people. He sat down. There was nothing to be done now except wait. Wait and hope. Wait for Patient Four to call again and hope he says he's virus-free. Wait and hope that the few antibodies he gave that woman were enough to counter whatever they were exposing her to. 

Kira sat beside him. "So we go out the high door and take our chances with the beasts out there, make our way over to the next village and catch the train to Nardinosti. How do we get through the gates? We can't linger." 

Bashir leaned back against the wall. "So besides the first two insurmountable barriers of finding a new cloak and not being able to remove our hoods, we now have a third with the gates." 

"Who said 'insurmountable?" she argued. "We just haven't figured that out yet." 

"Do we even have enough time?" he asked her. "It's the fifth day. Every hour we wait brings us closer to dying for good." 

Kira stood. "I'll be back in a minute." She left. 

Bashir had no idea where she'd gone or why. He hoped it wasn't to assault a worker for his cloak. Whatever she was after, it took her longer than a minute. Patient Four did call and was free of the virus. Bashir sent two more doses of that compound to Patients One and Five. He will have saved four of the six at least. And he didn't know exactly how they planned to expose the woman, but her blood samples showed both the virus and antibodies to fight it. But would it be enough? He wanted to send her another dose. 

Finally, the door opened and Kira entered carrying a bottle and two glasses. "I thought you might like a taste," she said. 

He sighed at having to remind her. "I have a hole in my esophagus." 

"So spit it back in the glass," she suggested. "You can still taste it." She handed him a glass with a very small amount of a purple liquid. It smelled sweat and flowery. He took a sip and held it in his mouth. Finally, he did as she had suggested and spat it back out. "My tongue is tingling." 

She smiled. "It's good though, isn't it?" 

"Yes," he admitted, nodding. "Too bad we can't smuggle the bottle back to DS Nine." 

Her smile faded. "I barely made it back," she admitted. "They're locking down the palace." She took another sip of her wine. "But I surmounted one of our insurmountable barriers." 

"You didn't assault anyone?" he asked. 

She sounded hurt, a little angry, or both. "No, I did not. Everyone is hooded out there. Must be a mourning ritual. How is the vaccine doing?" 

"Patient Four is fine. I sent that compound to One and Five. The woman is infected, but she also has antibodies to fight it. For now." 

There was another knock at the door. Kira rose to answer it. Tarlingen was there. She stepped inside. She passed Kira and came to where Bashir was sitting. "You appear unhappy," she said. 

"I suppose I do," he told her. "Five people are going to die, including us. And maybe that woman will be number six." 

"Four will live who would have died," she countered. "And maybe your vaccine will save a fifth. Have you seen her latest sample?" She saw the glasses and bottle on the counter. "Ah, you have tasted the wine." 

"Only tasted," Bashir confessed. "Not sure where it would've come out if I had swallowed." He stood and went to the computer. There was a new sample. He opened the file. The concentration of virus had decreased while the antibodies had increased. 

Tarlingen looked past his shoulder. "You have achieved your Purpose," she said. "Our people will be safe." 

He looked at her. "Your Leader will die." 

"There will be another," she replied. "Thanks to you. Without the vaccine, the succession would be in question." 

He turned to face her fully. "Then you know why she's different." 

"A Liytner is a close advisor and attendant to our Leader," she answered. "And I am the closest Liytner. The ceremony will be in four hours. I would be honored if both of you were there." 

Bashir realized what she was saying. She was the chosen heir. 

"I'm sorry now," she went on, "that you saw so little of our world." She turned to Kira and smiled, "But you were able to see much of it." 

"She has shared all of it with me," he told her. 

Finally she sighed and turned to the door. She opened it but turned back and bowed. He and Kira bowed back. Then she was gone. 

* * *

Three hours later, the woman was virus free. The vaccine had worked. It was replicated and Kira could only assume that everyone in the palace was being given a dose. At the fourth hour, a woman in red came to the door and told them to cover and follow. Then she escorted them to a large room they had never been to before. There was a crowd. Red-cloaked men and women filled most of the standing room, though they parted for Kira and Bashir. There was a film of some sort covering the floor. But on the far wall was a gate. A gate very much like the ones around Nardinosti, except that this one was much larger. And the Leader, wearing only simple clothes was standing in it. 

Kira looked and found Tarlingen, who now wore a blue dress that matched the color of her uncovered face. She was standing to one side of the gate. The leader stepped forward out of the gate and collapsed, choking as she fell to the floor. Bashir started to rush forward, but a man in red blocked him. 

* * *

Bashir realized what they were doing. They were recreating the circumstances from the crash eight hundred years earlier. Nailati the Trill choked on Gidar's air and now Nailati, the leader, was dong the same. Tarlingen knelt by the leader, and Nailati exposed her stomach to her. Tarlingen pulled a knife out of somewhere in that dress and placed it to the Leader's exposed skin. The leader put her hand on top of Tarlingen's and helped her to slice into that skin. She had no air with which to scream. But the pain was evident in her face and she coughed up blood. Still she pulled back her own skin to expose the symbiont. 

Tarlingen turned the knife on herself. She cut away a section of the dress then sliced into her own abdomen. She reached in and took hold of the symbiont with one hand and cut away the connecting tissue with the other. Nailati's hand dropped beside her body as she convulsed. Tarlingen screamed as she pushed the symbiont into the incision she'd made. She put one hand on the floor then slowly stood. Her other hand tried to hold her skin together. 

Two women in brown rushed to her and wrapped her with bandages that she was bleeding through. On the floor, the convulsions stopped. The leader was dead. 

"It is done!" Tarlingen cried out. 

Every one of the red-cloaked watchers bowed as they would to the leader. Bashir did the same, and Kira beside him. When everyone rose again, Tarlingen was gone. The dead, former leader remained. 

Bashir couldn't just watch her there. He turned to leave. The red cloaks let him go. Kira followed him. He didn't speak until they were back in the large hall. "They reenacted it," he told her, angry at the violence he had witnessed. "To some extent." 

"It's their tradition," she argued. "We had guessed it was going to be bloody." 

"I might still have found a cure," he countered. If he'd just had more time. 

Kira put a hand on his arm. "It doesn't matter now. Look." She pointed up to the second level where no one was looking down at them. "How long did it take first priestess to change?" 


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who have already read this chapter, I had to make a time adjustment in two places to make things work out in the end.

****

**Star Trek: Deep Space Nine  
The Honored **  
by Gabrelle Lawson  
****

**Chapter Six**

****  
** **

Garak sat alone at his usual table in the Replimat. This was the day he had lunch with the doctor. Or did. Not being senior staff, or staff at all, of this station, Garak had not seen the sensor logs, but news travelled on a station like this. So he knew Julian had died. For good this time. Nearly everyone who spoke of it repeated those four words. For good this time. 

Garak couldn't help but hope they were all wrong and that Julian would come up behind him, apologizing for his tardiness, a smile on his lips and a shine in his eyes. But the pain he felt in his chest told him that wasn't going to happen. Not this time. 

It shouldn't have hurt this much. He'd seen many people die, or killed them himself. Some of them he'd known or even called friends. Only family hurt like this. Ziyal had hurt like this. To him, she'd felt like a younger sister. Tain, well, Tain had not felt like anyone else. But Julian wasn't family. But Julian wasn't family. 

Garak was never one to lie to himself. That was exactly why it hurt so much. With Julian alive, the fantasy had been enough. He would never force or trick Julian into going where he wouldn't go willingly. With Julian dead, the fantasy warped from 'someday maybe' to 'definitely never.' 

Well and one could argue that he'd never have gotten the relationship he wanted with Julian. He would argue that he had the relationship he could have. Julian enjoyed his company. He smiled in Garak's presence, indulged his interests in Cardassian literature, and accepted that he might never know the truth of this friend. 

And once a week, when Julian was here at the station or Garak was with him on the _Defiant_ , he had him all to himself for the span on one meal, prolonged by conversation. For Garak, it had sufficed. 

There was that other time, when Section 31 had faked Julian's death. But Kira hadn't believed it and that had given Garak enough reason to doubt it as well. Deaths, after all, could be faked. Even with bodies. He had called on everyone he could think of who might have had even the tiniest chance of knowing a hint of Julian's whereabouts. To no avail. Until, of course, _Enterprise_ had found him marooned in a cave on a dead world. 

Kira wasn't' here to doubt Julian's death this time. For she was dead as well. 

Garak sighed and stabbed his meal with a fork. As he brought the bite to his mouth, he heard someone approach from behind. 

"Is this seat taken?" The Irish accent gave it away. 

"Not anymore," Garak told him and waved a hand to the seat across the table. 

O'Brien didn't speak further but he sat and started eating. Garak looked back to his own plate. They'd both nearly finished by the time the engineer spoke again. 

"I never understood his friendship with you," he said. Then he lifted his glass. "But you _were_ his friend. And he was mine. So we both lost him." 

Garak lifted his own glass. O'Brien's eyes were shining with unshed tears. Garak had none. He had appearances to keep up. "To Julian Bashir," he offered in toast, "our friend." 

They both took a drink then finished their meal in companionable silence. Then O'Brien rose to attend to his work and Garak retired back to his shop. He had clothes to mend. 

* * *

Kira took his arm and led him back to the lab. "Pack a bag," she told him. "We're leaving while they're caught up in the consequences of that ceremony." She turned her back to him and started to change into her yellow cloak from the time with the biologists. 

"I still only have this one," he told her as he grabbed his medical tricorder, the dermal regenerator and a few other things. 

"Maybe that will work in our favor." Her voice was muffled as she maneuvered the new cloak over her head. "The whole palace here knows your purpose, and that it's done, but out there? The further we get the less they'll know. You have power in that cloak. I'll look like your helper." 

Once dressed, she stuffed her purple cloak into a bag, then grabbed a PADD from one of the crates. He knew what was on it. The plan to keep him alive. 

Kira checked the door then stepped outside, waving for him to follow. Bashir knew the way to the throne room, the leader's quarters, and the tunnels he came in through, but Kira now led him a different way, to the right and then up a flight of stairs. He kept expecting a red-cloaked figure to appear from the next corner, but the palace was unusually quiet. No priests or priestesses, no guards, no workers. Finally, Kira stopped in front of a door then opened it slowly. It was pitch black beyond except where the light from the corridor reached. She held out a hand to him. "Watch your head," she whispered. 

Bashir kept his free hand held up in front of his face to detect low ceilings and let Kira lead him. He tried not to think about the leader's host, to think of her dying the way Jadzia had died. Or the way that first Trill here had after crashing. Choking on her own lungs while her abdomen was cut open and her closest companion was taken, though willingly, from her. How lonely she must have felt in her last moments? 

He shook his head. He was trying _not_ to think of her. He focused on following Kira and guarding his head. His hand felt a rock and he had to duck but he kept going. After a few more minutes, Kira dropped his hand. He froze and for a moment he feared she'd left him to be lost in the darkness. 

But he saw a crack of red light and the silhouette of her shoulder. The door opened wider and he could see the color of her cloak and red-leafed trees beyond. She hurried him out and then eased the door shut behind them. Bashir just stood, taking in the smell of the trees, the brightness of the light. He hadn't been outside for days. 

Kira joined him, pointing toward a thin path to their right. "That way leads, eventually, down to the village," she said. "They might know too much there, being this close. I think we need to go around. Nardinosti is that way." She pointed to her left. "Three days, you said." 

"That was hundreds of years ago," he reminded her. "They have better technology now. She has to change, but they can probably heal the wound." 

"Alright." Kira nodded. "How much time do we have?" 

He knew what she meant. He'd been keeping track. "Two days, seven hours and thirteen minutes for me. You woke up after me, about an hour." 

She nodded again. "So this stuff inside us keeps us from feeling pain, from needing to eat or drink, from suffocating on this air. I'm thinking we can probably run for hours without getting tired." 

"I haven't been tired since I woke up on the _Gindarin_." But he agreed with her. And they had to go fast. It was a long way to Nardinosti, and they still had to get all the way to DS Nine. They couldn't afford even one wrong turn. 

"This way then." She turned and started running. "If you see something that looks like a fluffy, little bear, run faster." She had a small black rod in her hand. Bashir followed sweeping branches away from his face and hoping he wouldn't meet that little bear or the snake that liked nuts. Occasionally he felt a tap on his boot and looked down to find he'd stepped on a flower. 

They couldn't run particularly fast in the dense forest. They could still make out the position of the sun, and they kept it over their shoulders as they pushed on. After three hours they found themselves on a high plateau with the sun hiding behind the mountain. Bashir could see for kilometers down into a valley. Large animals grazed there. They had long necks and equally long tails. Had he been on Earth, he would have thought they were sauropods from the Jurassic. But where they were there were no trees to require those long necks. Kira had told him that they used their necks to dig deep into the ground for plants or roots. 

"The train." Kira pointed back to the southeast. There was a small village there and the train was stopped. "Maybe we can catch it." 

Bashir saw it start speeding off to the west. There had to be one going east at some point. He ran to the south-eastern edge of the plateau. There was a drop of at least twenty meters. Might not kill them, but they couldn't run on broken legs. 

Kira started looking, too. The best they could find was a two and a half meter drop down to a platform that led downhill and to the south. "I'll lower you down," he suggested, dropping to the ground with his shoulders over the edge. She sat then took both his hands before swinging off the ledge. It was a short drop, for her, after that. Bashir got up and turned his feet to the edge and scooted himself back toward it until he was holding on by his forearms, then his hands. Kira held his thighs loosely as if to steady him for the landing. He leg go and fell a few feet. They dusted themselves off then followed their new ledge southward and back into the trees. The sun now would be fully behind the mountain. 

* * *

By the time they reached the foot of that mountain, the sun was heading below the horizon. The sky had taken on the color of blood. Kira marveled that she wasn't tired or sore given the hours and distance they had crossed. Julian had gotten to see a few of the animals she had encountered foraging with Tarlingen. She'd had to use the spear a couple of times. Tarlingen had not wanted to stay out past night. But if they wanted to get to Nardinosti with enough time to get to DS Nine, she and Bashir had to keep going, even at night. 

Kira wondered now if the yellow cloak would draw attention where Bashir's purple one might blend in better. But Tarlingen had worn black, and still, she was wary of a night in the wilds. So maybe it didn't matter. 

Kira spotted a large rock and pointed Bashir toward it. They needed to choose their next move. She hadn't seen the train again. There was a chance it didn't run at night. 

She dropped behind the rock and leaned her back against it. "It's getting dark." 

"I've noticed," Julian said as he dropped down beside her. 

"Tarlingen hadn't wanted to be out in the dark," she told him. "I don't know what's out here at night. The spear may not be enough." 

"Do we have finrittors?" 

Of course. The energy weapon. She nodded and set her bag down to fish into her pockets. "Well, not this one apparently." She was glad now that she had stuffed her purple cloak into her bag. But first, she reached over to Julian's chest. "Allow me? It will be faster." 

He hadn't taken the time to inventory his pockets the way she had. He nodded. She reached in, careful to steer clear of that rather squishy part of his chest and found the weapon. She handed it to him, then found her way into the right pocket of her bagged cloak. "They won't kill Gidari people, but maybe they'll work on predators." She looked around the rock in the dimming light. "Which way now?" 

Julian stood for a few moments. "That way." He pointed to their right. "I can just make out the last of the sun's light. We need to keep it to our backs, do we not?" 

Kira stood and nodded. There was an open field in front of them and it was getting darker by the minute. "Can you see better in the dark?" 

"Than who?" 

"Than other non-enhanced humans?" 

He shrugged. "Maybe, never tested that." 

"If the sun is down, can we forego the hoods?" 

He shook his head. "Moon could reflect the infrared light, and the radiation may still be present. We probably shouldn't." Still, he pulled the tricorder from his bag. Kira rather enjoyed its familiar chirpings after nearly a week on Gidar. "Maybe in a few hours." He snapped it closed. "It's kind of beautiful here." 

Kira agreed with that. Like the Gidari people, the planet was stunningly beautiful, but also like the Gidari people, it could be extremely dangerous. "You know, she said they would have taken you alive. You'd have had to wear a helmet to breathe and they'd control what you could see." 

He turned to look at her. "Really? I suppose they would have killed me after so I couldn't tell anyone what I _had_ seen." 

Kira chuckled. "No, she said they'd would've taken your memories." 

"Well, that's better than killing me. I suppose we should get back to it." 

KIra threw her bag over her shoulder and kept the finrittor in her right hand. "Let's go." 

* * *

It got very dark at night on Gidar. Bashir was glad for Kira's biologist's cloak. He could just make out her silhouette running beside him. They were making a better pace now that the forest was gone and the land was mostly flat. They'd decided to skirt wide around a little village they'd seen from the plateau, which put them nearer to the large sauropods in the valley. Most of them were curled up asleep, but a few sentries had their long necks up to keep watch. Bashir could occasionally just make out a sparkle as the starlight reflected in their eyes. Still it was so dark now, he could have been a meter from one's bulk and not seen it. 

But he could hear them. Their huge lungs drew in liters of air then pushed it out again. But there was another sound. Something at the far side of the herd was agitating them. The sound was like thunder coming near as they reared up onto their legs and thrashed their tails. What kind of predator could take down one of these behemoths? The answer was, one he didn't want to meet. 

Kira must have felt it, too, as she put on a burst of speed. Bashir matched her but the thunder now had become a rushing wave. They were stampeding closer and fast. Bashir and Kira ran on, hoping the beasts would pass behind them and not trample them. And Bashir hoped whatever had upset them was successful in its hunt and wouldn't decide two humanoids were an easier meal. 

Something straight and tall rose up in front of them suddenly. In fact, he hit his left shoulder hard on it, hard enough to knock it out of the socket. The object was hard and rough and didn't move. A tree. He quickly maneuvered behind it, relieved to hear the herd did not come closer. He could still feel them in his boots as they shook the earth. 

"That sounded painful." Kira's slightly bright form appeared in front of him. 

"Fortunately not," he replied. Still it felt awkward and familiar. And he knew just how to reduce the dislocation. He set the bag down beneath his feet then performed the maneuver. There was a satisfying pop as the ball slipped back into the joint. 

"There are definite advantages to having this stuff in our veins." 

He agreed wholeheartedly. "We seem to be safe from the herd. I don't want to stick around to attract whatever scared them." 

"We still going the right way?" 

"Hmm." Bashir picked up the bag, stepped away from that tree and felt his way around a few more until he was in a clearing again. He looked up at the sky. He studied the stars for a few minutes, calculating and taking into account their circular movement through the night sky. "Yes," he said. "This way." They started running again. As the sound of the herd faded in the distance behind them, he thought he felt something else. Thought he heard it. It was coming closer. He could smell it. Deciding that whatever it was, it was not a Gidari humanoid and was definitely a carnivore, he raised his weapon and turned his torso to see it and fire. In the beam of light from the weapon, he saw the reflection of a pair of eyes and some very sharp teeth. The beam hit it and it screeched. 

"What the—" Kira stopped and turned. 

Bashir grabbed her arm and pulled her along as he kept running. "I hit it. Didn't kill it." 

Its footfalls had been near silent before, but he could hear it now as it limped. But it was still behind them, still coming. 

"Maybe it thinks we'll get tired and have to stop," Kira commented. 

"I'm more concerned it might hunt in packs." 

It stayed behind them for another half hour. But it was tiring. Bashir could hear it breathing hard from the exertion and the pain of its wound. 

And then Kira fell. She rolled with it but the beast pounced. Bashir couldn't shoot without possibly hitting Kira. 

"Spear!" she shouted. "Left—sleeve." 

There were several things hidden in this left sleeve. He gave up on one pocket then found another. Finally his fingers felt the round stick he'd seen Kira with earlier. He pulled it out and fumbled until it finally activated. He had to focus where the beast blocked his view of her yellow cloak. He jabbed it in the leg, hoping to distract it. 

It growled. And with that, Bashir knew right where its head was. The spear went right through the bone into its brain. The beast fell limp onto Kira's body. 

She pushed and Bashir pulled until she could get out from under it. But now Bashir could see her very well. Because here and there she was leaking the glowing fluid. 

"It bit me a few time," she told him, her voice calm. "Claws got me, too." 

"Well, fortunately, I'm a doctor." He set his bag on the ground and knelt beside her. "Lay back and let's have a look." She pulled a glowing stick from her cloak and handed it to him before laying down. 

The stick glowed blue and he recognized it as being like the one Tarlingen had used in the caves. With it, he looked her over carefully. The tricorder told him what he still couldn't see well. She had puncture wounds to her arms and a slash to her abdomen. "I think you're going to have to go purple." 

"You can fix it, though?" 

Bashir set the tricorder down, open, on the ground by his knees. He used the light to find his dermal regenerator. "Abdomen first," he told her, "but you'll have to take off the top." 

"Radiation?" 

Bashir checked the tricorder. "Still present but at lower levels. Should be fine if we're quick." As she worked her torso out of the cloak, Bashir retrieved the purple one from her bag and draped it over her shoulders anyway. 

He took off his gloves, reasoning that they'd been in the dirt and grime, leaving his bare hands clean. Not sterile perhaps, but under the circumstances, they'd have to do. 

He ignored her bared breasts and focused on the large gash just to the left of her navel. The tricorder told him the wound wasn't deep, but it was wide and certain things were trying to push their way through it. 

"Oh, that looks—" 

"Then don't look," Bashir told her. "At least it doesn't hurt." He quickly used two fingers of his left hand to push the intestines back inside then started knitting the skin back together with the regenerator. When he finished pulled his last finger out and finished up, her torso began to jiggle. 

Bashir turned his attention to her arms, just as she started laughing in full. 

"What is so funny?" he asked as he closed the puncture wounds in her left arm. 

"This whole situation," she choked out. "Here we are, dead on an alien planet. We were nearly trampled by a herd of giant animals that could have squashed us into mush, and now I'm sitting here half-naked after some cat-like animal just tried to eat me." 

"Dead and glowing," he corrected, reaching for her right arm. "And you won't be half-naked for long. Now, can you dress in the dark or do I need to hold the light?" 

The laughter faded but she was still grinning as she sat up. "I'll try the dark." 

Bashir found himself smiling as he turned off the light. It was all rather ridiculous. Well, what other two dead people ever had such an adventure? 

"A week from now," she was saying, "you and I will share a bottle over this in Quark's bar." 

He wiped his hands on her discarded yellow cloak, and didn't reply. A week was a long time and the odds were not in their favor. 

She must have guessed his thoughts. "We're going to make it, Julian." She found his shoulder and squeezed. "Or we'll try until the last second. Deal?" 

Oh, he wanted it. No matter how many times he'd given up before, in Auschwitz, in that last detention camp or on the prisoner transport ship, he still wanted to live now. "Deal." 

Kira took the light from his hand and switched it on. "What did I trip over anyway?" She took the light over to the beast and gave it a good look. "It's so puzzling here how smaller things eat the bigger things." 

She was right. He'd seen haftha take down a larger mammal and a water bug pull a full grown man into the water. This animal was cat-like but no bigger than perhaps a bobcat back on Earth. "Be glad it wasn't bigger." He pulled the spear free and wiped it off on the discarded cloak before shrinking it. 

Kira moved on, looking for the obstacle that had given the cat the opening it needed. "Julian! It's the track!" 

He joined her and looked down. The light only illuminated about a foot of it, but it was enough. This was the track the train used. "We only have to follow it." 

* * *

The call came very early in the morning. Sisko hadn't even got out of bed yet. But Necheyev was just as alert as ever. "Sorry to wake you, Benjamin. But I thought you'd want to know as soon as possible." 

"Know what as soon as possible?" Sisko was awake now. Nothing good had ever been prefaced with those words. 

"A representative of the Dominion is coming to Deep Space Nine under a flag of truce." 

That was not at all what Sisko had expected. "Are they wanting to surrender?" 

"If only it were that easy," she said. "They're not coming to talk to us. They're coming to talk to the Gidari." 

Sisko rubbed his forehead as he tried to make sense of this. "Why here?" 

"The Gidari requested it as a neutral place." 

"We're not neutral," Sisko insisted. "Not to the Dominion. What do the Gidari want?" 

"Who knows what the Gidari ever want?" she asked in return. "What we don't want is for them to join forces with Dominion." 

"They wouldn't have to come here for that." It didn't make sense. "They could go to Cardassia." 

"Or maybe they want to ally with us against the Dominion." 

Sisko shook his head. "The Gidari consider anyone who isn't Gidari irrelevant at best. They would never admit to needing us." 

"But we could use an ally like them," Necheyev said. "They'll be there in forty-eight hours. Maybe you can find out." 

This was just great. Now he had to play host to the enemy who had killed his officers and the mysterious ethonocentrists who took their bodies. 


End file.
